


Penthouse of Desire

by Lanzelotti



Category: Persona 5
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Abusing the concept of My Palace/Thieves' Den for fun and profit, Anal Sex, Bathing/Washing, Blood, Comfort, Coming Out, Dirty Talk, Dream Sex, Exhibitionism, Food Kink, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Foxcest (minor), Frottage, Glove Kink, Lingerie, M/M, Makeover, Mention of past Joker/Panther, Nipple Play, Okujima (background), Oral Sex, Party Games, Past Child Abuse, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Romance, Self-Harm, Selfcest, Sensation Play, Suicidal Ideation, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 10:08:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 39,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23349706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lanzelotti/pseuds/Lanzelotti
Summary: Ren saved the world, his friends, even himself, but his heart is still one of a prisoner. Joker is determined to set it free.
Relationships: Amamiya Ren/Joker, Amamiya Ren/Kitagawa Yusuke, Joker/Persona 5 Protagonist, Kitagawa Yusuke/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 77
Kudos: 127





	1. Guest Bedroom

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by TwilightKnight17.
> 
> Some excerpts originally posted at the Slutkira Stan Server at Discord.

“Welcome back.”

The bell, the wooden counters, the colored glass lamps. All the same, and that could also be said about the menu and pricing. The only thing that two years did for Leblanc was an increase in customers, but calling it fashionable was an exaggeration.

Ren nodded back, leaving his bag in the renewed attic — just a paint job and a proper bed — and returning to a fresh cup of coffee and his old apron.

“Hattori Nutrition College, huh? Never imagined you would take cooking seriously, boy,” Sojiro said, handing him some dirty plates. “But don’t think I’ll let you take over my business.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll get into _Printemps_ as soon as I can. Ginza, Okumura Foods, paying enough to not live in an attic.”

“Traitor.” Sojiro’s chuckles were muffled by water hitting on porcelain. “After everything I did for you...”

Ren kept washing dishes, the cold of running water contrasting with the warmth of coffee and friendship. Hattori was still in Shibuya, and two years in Leblanc were much better than staying home, going to the local tech school, and facing his parents’ endless nagging about how he chose not to be a doctor, a lawyer, or an engineer. As if he would spend the rest of his life burying his face in boring books or worse, calculus. Who in the world liked calculus, anyway?

_Her._ “Futaba?”

“School. Computer club. President, who could imagine that!” Sojiro’s heavy eyebags and the glare of his lenses couldn’t hide the proud twinkle in his eyes.

His shift went on without any problems. Futaba returned after an hour, bringing the clatter of her keyboard, laments about being the last one in high school, and demands to follow her to Akihabara to check on new desktop parts.

He couldn’t judge; no one else chose his college, so he was as lonely as Futaba. Makoto had Toudai; Haru, Hitotsubashi; Yusuke, Geidai; Ann, Bunka; and just the fact that Ryuji managed a letter of recommendation for track at a university, no matter its prestige or lack of, was a miracle by itself. Well, at least he could meet up with everyone on Sundays.

Nighttime came, bringing together exhaustion. Notebooks closed, clothes changed, a fresh bowl of water for Morgana, and Ren lay in bed without any nagging from his cat.

And as the weight of deep sleep pulled him down into the depths of unconsciousness, his eyes caught not chains, but flashes of marble, glass, and fur. Shining crystals, bright lights, chandeliers. Velvet — red, not blue. The caress of silk sheets against his bare skin.

“What?”

Rubbing his eyes brought relief against the lighting, but not an answer to where he was. A bedroom, of course — the single bed and the built-in closet were enough proof. But the dark walls and the full-height windows were unlike anything else he had visited in his life, Palaces included. Dramatic? Yes. Comfortable? Very. Luxurious? Sure. But not tacky, and Ren dared admit it was beautiful.

But before any sort of investigation, clothes. And an empty closet made him miss the rags from the Velvet Room.

“You woke up in the guest room of your own penthouse. That’s a problem. Well, at least it’s not the laundry.”

His own voice, but he uttered nothing. But the clack of heels on the floor, the whoosh of loose leather against the air, the approaching whiff of coffee, musk, and firewood, all pointed to its true owner — Joker.

“Where am I?” Ren said, wrapping a sheet around his waist.

“Told you. Penthouse.” Joker pulled back his bangs with gloved fingers, letting them fall back into place in soft, messy layers. “Better said, a Den. Like a Palace, but benign.”

A benign Palace, a place created by his own desire? Morgana never told him that; perhaps he didn’t even know about it. “All right. Then what happened to Arsene?”

He appeared between Joker and Ren at the mention of his name, taking off his top hat and bowing to both, returning into mask form seconds after.

“A Den is made of clear desire, don’t worry about it.” Joker sat on the bed, fluffing a pillow and stretching his legs, boots firm on his feet. “Your reward for a successful heist. Enjoy,” he said, patting the mattress at his side.

Ren followed, keeping his feet on the floor. “If this is mine,” he said, “then why didn't I see it before? And where are my clothes?”

“You didn’t believe yourself worthy. Believed the world deserved freedom, but not yourself.” Joker put his legs alongside Ren’s, heels pinning the improvised skirt to the floor. “A second-class guest in your own house. Seriously, Ren? After everything?”

Bringing his knees to his chest, Ren ignored the sheet pooling on the floor. “Too busy fixing my life for wasting time with thievery. It’s all over, anyway.”

“Oh, yes, all over. What a badass, hiding what was left of your money for culinary school. Acting more like a prisoner after your probation to keep it a secret. ‘Look at me, I’m a total rebel for doing what lots of people do every year!’ And then what? Graduate, cook for a while, move to a management position to raise a family, and become a boring father with an even more boring ‘follow your dreams’ story. No, it’s not over. If you were really happy with this, I wouldn’t be here, and you know that.”

“What I want,” Ren said, raising his voice and glaring at his masked double, “is comfort. Pleasure. Peace. Not being trapped in another thankless job in the name of rebellion.”

“Well…” Joker grinned between heavy breaths, aggression failing to bring more than flushed cheeks. “Then accept your gift,” he said, waving his arm towards the room. “What you want, I want; what you feel, I feel; what you know, I know. What you don’t want others to know, I know. That’s why you’re naked, by the way. Nothing to hide.”

Old news — Joker would be aware of all his thoughts, they were one and the same. Familiar with his uncovered self, outlandish musings, _everything._

“And by nothing, I really mean nothing, you caged bird, you housecat.” His coat slid away from exposed shoulders, pale and sinewy, a waterfall of black leather that joined crimson silk in a second.

Which meant that Joker knew of his daydreams about his graceful form coming out of a cognitive portal, laying himself bare at night and doing to Ren what he never had the courage to ask any other man to.

_Oh, crap._ Ren grabbed Joker’s wrist in the exact point where red ended and white started. “Wait—”

A twirl, and Joker freed himself, using his hands to push Ren into the mattress. “Relax,” he said, lying on his side, propping his head with a raised hand. “This coat can be a little cumbersome, that’s all.”

Maybe it was just Ren’s cheeks, but the heat was unbearable, and they weren’t even touching each other! “This bed is too small.”

“I agree,” Joker said, “but you’re too nervous for anything.” A wink escaped from his mask. “I’ll let you sleep.”

“No, just tell me. Does this—”

“Damn it, you’re too old to get worked up about wet dreams! It’s masturbation, Ren, but better!”

“I meant a price. I know there’s a catch; what do I need to sacrifice?”

Joker let out a too-long sigh, flourishing a hand as if he was ready to yawn. “Since you can’t accept a prize, well… You come here in your sleep,” he twirled a lock of Ren’s hair between his fingers, the same Ren tugged when anxious, “and satisfy your urges. Open yourself, and even if you just want to talk, I am right here. Maybe you’ll learn about true freedom.”

From past dealings with the supernatural, Ren knew his visits would be frequent. “Why?”

“Tired of only being allowed to rise when you’re listening to music, writing, or getting off,” Joker said. “You’re not a baby; forge your path! You learned fast two years ago, but looks like it was mere teenage fancy. What a pathetic ending for a Phantom Thief.”

“In heist movies, if everything goes right, the leader retires with his share of the loot.” Ren stretched his arms and put his hands behind his head, unbothered by his nudity. “You’re bored, but there’s nothing left to do. Sorry.”

“Retires in luxury. And here’s the frills and the thrills.” Joker rolled closer, bodies in contact, a finger gliding along Ren’s jawline. “C’mon, you saved the world, your friends… yourself, too. Don’t forget to save your soul. Strength through bonds, and if you don’t care about bonding with yourself, why bother with the others?”

What? How dare he treat his friendships as worthless? Of course he would care about Futaba’s growth! Makoto’s drive! Ryuji’s new beginnings! Ann’s confidence! Haru’s trust! Morgana’s sense of belonging! Goro’s promise! Yusuke’s loyalty and vulnerability! And one of the certainties in Ren’s heart was that everyone cared for his work as a leader and…

_And… and…_

Everyone was shining and he was still an unapproachable dork who kept his head down for fear of retaliation. “If I don’t step up, I’m letting everyone down.”

The realization came with a painful throb in the head and a lack of air in the lungs. Ren would not — needed not — say anything more, but his reticence was betrayed by grabbing Joker’s vest with two hands, head resting against his neck.

“There, there...” Joker’s voice was little more than a hum, low and husky. “It’s about you, not them, but that’ll do for now. We’ll do it together, and I’ll offer all of my support. Learn to indulge. Dare to desire.”

Red gloves brushed across a stiff neck, trying to meet in the middle of his back, but the lack of space between them locked his wrists around Ren’s shoulder blades. Unwilling to face pointy elbows in his chest, Ren freed himself, sitting on a corner.

“Come here,” he said.

And so Joker did, straddling Ren from behind, wrapping his torso in lithe arms, supple leather fingers grazing along his collarbones, fondling every muscle in his abs, playing with the thin line of dark hair below his navel only to move up his narrow waist, heaving chest, wide shoulders. The stiff fabric ground slightly against soft skin, metallic buttons diminutive icy points between the dark blazes of their entwined bodies.

“You went through a lot,” Joker whispered. “I’ll soon let you rest.”

“No good night kiss?”

The mask vanished in ghostly fire, half-lidded iron eyes meeting each other. Black curls tingled on other’s faces. Their shared breath of coffee, peppermint and a hint of cream intoxicated their lungs. Lips, soft and tender, at first just pressing against each other, then evolving into kisses, long and slow. The smallest tip of tongue touched another, tasting like a stronger, rawer variation of their breath.

Tasting like Ren.

When air rarefied, they broke apart, Ren throwing himself into the bed, body flushed and relaxed as if he just got out of the bath, Joker retrieving his coat and spreading it over Ren’s body as a blanket, its weight a memento of their embrace.

“There will be more tomorrow. Good night, and don’t forget,” Joker said, stroking Ren’s face for the last time, “I’m always here for you.”

Darkness overrode Ren’s surroundings, and for an indescribable period of time he floated in the nothing, consciousness vanishing under peaceful sleep.

Then something small and heavy hit his stomach.

“Ren!” Squeaky voice… Oh, Morgana putting his weight on his front paws again. “Could you please throw a bucket of cold water on yourself? As for me, I’ll sleep in the booths. For shame...”

The ease with which Ren opened his eyes was proof that it was still night. “Too early...” His fingers passed through a piece of cardstock and put it on the window sill, using his cellphone as a lantern to check its content.

A typical Phantom Thieves calling card — in the end, Joker told the truth — but instead of the _Take your Heart_ in cut-and-paste letters, there was, in fancy script:

_Free your Heart._


	2. Dining Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The response is better than I expected! Thanks, guys!
> 
> And sorry — I promised porn, but while this chapter is spicier, feelings got in the way.

How to shine?

Ren had mastered the skill to give others the fuel for their life, but what would be his own? What would fulfill his spirit?

Judging by the measurement conversion charts on the kitchen screens and his summer vacation pictures — food. From the curry Sojiro taught him to the recipe book he created in his travels, cooking sparked a fire in his heart that nothing else could, and taught him how to dream again. His little restaurant, all his friends around the table, the delicious dishes bringing all closer together as a family. Yes, it warmed his soul just to think about that!

But as much as he loved it, it indulged others, not himself. The dishes, the stove, the kitchen floor, would all be his to clean.

Indulging himself was the inverse, then — other people feeding him, but what? The Wilton buffet? Maybe after his first paycheck. Or better, he could stay away from politician scum and order a juicy steak somewhere quieter.

Company would be nice, though, but who? Ryuji and Futaba would have to forgive him, but Ren wasn’t in the mood for noise. Someone who could listen to aimless rambles with a smile and no judgement, someone who broke through his barriers.

… Maybe his Den had food, since it was made of desires? Wine, too? Although with Joker as company, Ren would probably be the main course. Not a problem, though.

“Amamiya, are you paying attention?”

Older male voice, academic setting. Flashes of black uniforms, humiliating reprimands, and forehead bruises commanded Ren to tilt his head; the student behind him be damned!

His ears couldn’t detect the chalk hitting the floor, though.

“Amamiya?”

“Sorry,” he said between gasps. “Sugar is a wet ingredient in baking because, when dissolved in water, it will inhibit gluten production and guarantee the right texture.”

“Correct.” The teacher nodded. “Feel free to go outside if you’re not feeling well.”

Ren didn’t. For that, two girls tagged along with him for the entire day, insisting on paying for his lunch and following him back home, only stopping when he mentioned his job. Weird; he did nothing to them to garner such attention, and they owed him no favors. What the hell did they notice in him?

Whatever — he had a full evening of work ahead.

After a trip to the bathhouse to get rid of the smell of cumin and black pepper, Ren finished the first draft of his Nutrition assignment and was ready to ask Morgana to sleep in a booth again until the loud hum of his phone vibrating against old wood ruined his plans.

 **23:12 HARU:** Ren, I’m sorry for texting late, but could we meet at Printemps next Sunday?

 **23:14 HARU:** I know you’re just starting, but it’s about the menu.

Sure, why not? Futaba would understand; video cards wouldn’t vanish in a week.

 **23:15 REN:** I’ll need to check with Sojiro. Will text you back with an answer.

 **23:16 HARU:** Thank you! If you can’t, don’t worry!

Glasses on the window sill, and nothing would make him get up before morning. And as Joker promised, the marble and velvet returned, together with mirrors and roses.

A plush chair and a silver wristwatch. A red shirt with rolled-up sleeves and a black waistcoat. Glasses back on his nose bridge. A Silky passed behind the long table, serving a dish of salmon and vegetables with a fragrant sauce.

“I asked for steak,” Ren said, burying himself in his chair, enjoying the distant, muffled notes of a piano.

“Still sharp, huh?” Joker sniffed his glass of white wine, eyes closed, mask returning to his face when Silky finished her job. “A lighter meal will suit us better.”

From the lemony tang of the sauce to the balance of crispy and buttery of the salmon, Ren found no flaws in his dish, and wished he could get the recipe to try his hand at it when awake, but for the moment he allowed himself to appreciate the harmony of olive oil and rosemary.

“A toast,” Joker said, lifting his glass. “For us.”

The gentle clink of the glasses and the dry fruitiness of the wine were small pleasantries when matched against the up and down of Joker’s Adam’s apple and his exposed collarbones, framed by a black shirt and a red waistcoat. 

“Those clothes, how?”

Joker finished drinking, summoning Silky again to take away the dirty plates. “Clear, conscious desire. You wanted a nice dinner, you got it. Outfits included. Like them?”

“A lot.” But despite telling the truth, Ren’s focus was on Joker’s toned forearms and the dip of his waist. They could be the same person, but no way they looked the same. No way he was that handsome, that…

Seductive.

“And sorry about the steak,” Joker said, sitting on a chair alongside Ren’s. “It’s about my desire, too, and I didn’t want to get you all heavy before dessert.” 

His mask was in its right place, and no steps on marble caught Ren’s attention. “Which one?”

“Behind you.”

Sure thing — a side table sat against the wall, with a chocolate fountain, berries in tall glass vases, and shiny bottles of whipped cream on top. Before Ren could decide on which berry he would try first, Joker picked several crystal bowls, filling each one with a different treat.

“I guess this is…” He dipped a fingertip in the chocolate, bringing it between his lips and cleaning them with his tongue. “Hmm, dark chocolate. Want some?”

Stealth, then flamboyant; unassuming, then dramatic. Ren was the last person in the world to fall for this trick, and one of the few who knew how to counter it. “I don’t know,” he said, kissing some cream straight from the bowl, licking it without haste, letting it drip a little. “Want to try my cream first?”

“That’s the Ren I like,” Joker said, voice soft and breathy, sliding the back of his fingers against Ren’s neck. “Learns fast, and isn’t afraid to put it to practice.”

“You told me to enjoy our wet dreams.” Ren picked a raspberry, pressing it against Joker’s lips. “Something wrong?”

Joker moved his head forward, picking the berry and trapping Ren’s fingertip with his teeth, licking it a little, bringing a rush of flames to Ren’s cheeks. “Your flirting,” he said. “But that’s not a big problem.”

“Then I guess… well…” Ren dipped some strawberries in chocolate and shoved them down his throat, allowing the contrast of tart sweetness and lush bitterness to overpower his tongue, giving him time to come up with a decent retort.

Nah, no retort needed. Just burying a hand in Joker’s curls (were they always so silky?) and invading that impish mouth, tongue circling around berry-tinted lips, then pressing against teeth, demanding an opening.

In response, Joker grabbed Ren’s collar, giving back all of that urge, circling his tongue against Ren’s, melding their flavors together, reveling in the sizzling blend of syrupy, rough, and wet. “It’s a pity, though,” he said between pants. “You dirtied your clothes.”

There were chocolate stains on Ren’s collar indeed, the result of his carelessness with his dessert. “I’ll deal with it later.”

“No, we’ll deal with it now.” Joker opened the top button of Ren’s waistcoat and rubbed his fingers against the smooth fabric. “Let me help you.”

Ren untucked his shirt with a coy smile forming on his blushing face as Joker undid his buttons, quickly at first, then leaving gentle strokes on his waist, hungry kisses on his neck and shoulders. But all of Joker’s affection nourished something deep within Ren — forgotten, neglected, silenced, yet resisting. Something that made its first step from surviving to living.

“More…”

Joker stood up, pushed the bowls aside and took Ren’s hand, guiding him to lean against the table. After that, he smashed a cherry, smearing its juice on hardened nipples, receiving gasps in return.

No words, just Joker’s lips on his nipple, sending little sparks with every lick, kindling fire waves with every nibble, and Ren could swear he never felt as comfortable in his life, being allowed to just _be._

…Except for being the only one showing skin again. What a devil’s trick, to make others vulnerable while not even opening his shirt! And as delicious as his teasing was, it worked even better to keep him busy. So, Ren stretched his arm to the cream bowl, smeared his fingers, and passed them over Joker’s back, soft enough to be mistaken for a stroke.

“Hey, your clothes are dirty too.”

A chuckle, and Joker looked at his face, chin poking against his chest. “You nasty boy, still acting like a criminal. I wanted to take it slow, treat you like a prince, and you behave like that?”

“Never wanted to become one,” Ren said, pretending that he didn’t notice Joker unbuckling his belt. “But I’m tired of ‘criminal’, really.”

“Then ‘rogue’? ‘Libertine’?”

“Actually...” He stepped forward, letting Joker work on his trousers. “None of those. No ‘Phantom’, no ‘leader’... just call me Ren.”

Joker’s hands left Ren’s zipper, enclosing him in a tight embrace. A substance dark as a moonless night surrounded them, bringing no pain or discomfort, then disappeared in smoke. After that, no fabric stood in the way of their smooth skins. “Perfect.”

For a while they stood still, lips locked, delighting in each other’s warmth. And as Ren caressed Joker’s spine bone by bone, clutched his hips, and fondled his full, taut buttocks, he remembered it was all a dream. That as soon as he woke up, he could love someone, but would always be the protector. The carer. Always holding someone, but never being held. By receiving a little attention from his alter ego in his magical happy place, a badly-stitched wound opened, bringing tears to his eyes.

“Something wrong?” Joker said, holding his hands.

Ren tightened his hold and pressed his eyes, holding back the tears for a moment. “Forget it.”

“No.” Joker freed himself and sat on a chair. “I won’t leave you. I’m serious.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Ren tried to glare; instead, he cried more. “When I wake up I’ll become a title again.”

“Oh, come here…” Joker closed his legs, tapping his thighs. “For me you’ll always be Ren.”

“Still doesn’t matter, you’re myself.”

“And you still don’t have the courage to cry to yourself.” His voice was soft, gentle; the invitation to sit on his lap still stood. “Did you forget? If other people want to treat you like a thing, that’s their problem. If people are bothered by your true self, let them deal with it. You’re Ren Amamiya, and how you live is no one’s business.”

True, but… “My friends...”

“Will understand. They saw the true you through the rumors and all of that bullshit. They’re not the problem. You can shine and people will love you as you are, despite everything. I do.”

Ren sat on Joker’s lap, circling his arms around his neck, letting tears flow. For every hair ruffling and every forehead kiss, his wound hurt less. For every sweet nothing, his tears became happy. For he knew that at least with someone, he could be vulnerable, exposed, without fear of judgement. And nothing, not even the adrenaline highs from his capers, made him feel so alive, so _human._

“Thank you so much!”

And with love, his spirit would be fulfilled enough to be truly free.


	3. Rooftop Garden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okonomiyaki is indeed one of the dishes Ren can cook in P5 Scramble - thanks NinoReed for the recipe list!

**21:07 REN:** I’ll have all Sundays off. Can I meet you at three?

 **21:10 HARU:** Of course! I’ll be waiting for you!

Five to three and Ren wandered around the glossy corridors of the _Ginza Six_ , his faded jeans and old blazer a sore spot between the immaculate looks of the wealthy. All the cafés were in the second basement; all the restaurants in the sixth or thirteenth floor, and nothing of _Printemps by Okumura_ yet. He combed his bangs at a showcase window and searched for the nearest escalator, hoping he missed the café when trying to make sense of the mall layout.

Expensive brand, expensive brand, a flower shop that looked like a botanical garden with an herbal tea menu outside, and Haru, covered in floral chiffon, standing outside.

“Good afternoon!” she said.

Gelato carts, little cake kiosks, flower urns, and any sort of guilt for mistaking the café for a flower shop disappeared. At least the seats were soft, and the round booth Haru reserved quite secluded — no chance of rich people and tourists glaring daggers at him for existing while poor.

A waiter brought the menu, and Ren looked at the items to discover what bothered Haru so much, but the prices — not cheap, but a bargain for Ginza standards — and the coffee selection drew his attention.

“Your coffee blend is quite good, and you did not cut corners by adding robusta,” Ren said, adjusting his glasses. “But an Espresso roast is very easy to mess up, and even done right, makes all beans taste the same. If you still want it strong, go for a French roast, trust me.”

“I will keep that in mind, thank you.” She opened a lavender suitcase, putting all sorts of French cookbooks on the table. “But this is what I wanted to talk about. The menu is really lacking in savoury options.”

True — besides croissants, someone who disliked sweets could only order quiches, some types of bread, and _croque monsieur_. Adding Japanese fare like rice omelettes would ruin the theme.

“Didn’t take my Western cuisine classes yet, but if it’s just choosing some recipes...”

“Yes, exactly. Don’t feel pressured if it’s still too much.”

Haru ordered an afternoon tea set for two and Ren leafed through the books, happy that they were written in Japanese — cellphone translation would be a pain. Used teacups, empty cake stands, and stained napkins piled on as he marked down recipes, suggested ingredients, and Haru wrote down all of it in a rose-printed notebook full of stickers.

“For now the cheese soufflé, some _gratins_ and _crêpes bretonnes_ will be enough,” Ren said, loosening his belt buckle. “Put all the vegetables and mushrooms in the crêpes, maybe some smoked salmon, and you’ll have a nice selection without too much work.”

“More or less what my executive chef said… but I wanted to hear the opinion of a young person, so, thank you! ” Haru held a stray lock of hair with her enameled pin. “Now, your payment...”

Ren slammed his fists and stood up. “What, no! The tea is enough!”

“I insist.” She grabbed her phone, her voice dropping an octave. “You worked as my consultant, after all.”

Haru’s commanding attitude couldn’t hold its own against the bank app, though. She tapped, slid, and turned the screen around, refusing any help. As Ren waited for her inevitable defeat, a book piqued his curiosity, with _Alphonse Mucha_ written against an ornate background.

No recipes, for sure. But the delicate coloring, the elaborate shapes, and beautiful women in flimsy dresses called Yusuke to mind, even if it wasn’t close to his usual style. Perhaps he would enjoy the meeting, not just for the food, but the book and the atmosphere. With him at their side, they would still be discussing the most beautiful ways to fold crêpes and the meaning of the flower urns in _hanakotoba._

A comfortable pleasure. Peaceful.

“Finally! Just put your account number here and—” Haru handed over her phone. “Oh, that! I invited Yusuke too, but he had commissions to finish.”

That explained it. “So, is it a gift?” Ren said, typing without much care.

She clasped her hands, fluttering her eyelashes at Ren in the same way she did in high school. “Oh, no! We’ll open another café in Omotesando, and this time it’ll look like a giant greenhouse full of stained glass. So I need his help to make it come straight from my dreams!”

Ren gave the phone back. “What kind of dreams?”

“Very vivid dreams…” A soft blush formed on Haru’s cheeks, but she kept eye contact. “Anyway, it’s done. I’ll call you again for the tasting session.”

A buzz in his pocket confirmed that Haru did it right, and after all the promises of future meetings and group outings, Ren followed his way home, her dream comments still on his mind. Joker never said a Den was a gift just for him, only that it was a reward for a heist. That meant that she and Noir…

Whatever scenario that Ren could have imagined got cut off by his phone vibrating again — in the middle of a crowded train, of all places. If it was spam, he swore he would turn it off until reaching home.

 **18:22 HARU:** Forgot to say…

 **18:23 HARU:** I hope you can buy something nice for yourself!

Haru’s psychic attacks only worked in the Metaverse, but damn if it didn’t look like she had read his mind!

 **18:25 HARU:** So you can look even more elegant than you already are!

If it was a stranger, Ren would have blocked the number. If it was Haru, but two years ago, he would say he was fine with what he got, then change the subject. But at the moment, it proved Joker true — she asked for help, sure, but she cared about him not as a Hattori student, but as himself.

And she didn’t suggest buying necessities, or something useful, or saving it for an emergency.

Just something nice.

 **18:27 REN:** I will, thanks!

Morgana’s complaints about not bringing him fish, Futaba’s insistence on another round of Star Forneus, a big plate of okonomiyaki, all helped the evening pass by. Before Ren knew it, his head was firm against the pillow, Morgana curled at his feet.

But still, something nice… Not just respectable, discreet, and durable, like the stuff his parents bought him. Something for him and himself only… Something...

Darkness enveloped his musings, transforming into a carpet of dewy grass. The soft chime of water flowing down a fountain. Lanterns glowing against the inky sky. Trees, shrubs, spider lilies. Opals and silver on Ren’s neck and wrists, and a bouquet of red lotuses in his arms.

Joker rested a hand where Ren’s narrow hips met embroidered silk, nose brushing against his ear. “Stunning.”

“When I asked for something nice, I didn’t expect it to make me look like an old painting,” Ren said, a petal falling from his flowery headdress.

“But it’s pretty, isn’t it? When was the last time you felt beautiful?”

First Haru, then Joker — what was the reason for all those compliments? As far as he knew, nothing changed since last summer except for some extra centimeters in height. Yusuke was handsome and Joker was dashing, but him? Same old Frizzy Hair.

“Never thought about that.” But unless he wanted a lecture, that wouldn't be enough. “My, I mean, your thief costume makes me feel cool, if that counts.”

“Ours,” Joker said, taking his bouquet. “I agree. The vest is quite sexy on us, right?”

Tight enough to outline their collarbones, fact. But Joker did cartwheels with a gun, and he… worked out. Years ago. “On you.”

“Did you forget that I am you? Come.”

Chilly stone paths against bare feet, a skirt train that snagged everywhere, and Ren struggled to follow Joker, finding relief only when spotting him leaning on a secluded gazebo, dropping some lotuses on the tiny lake surrounding it.

“Take a damn good look at me,” Joker said, undoing the knot of his scarlet robe.

Ren did — oh, he did. From long eyelashes to a sharp jawline, a defined chest to strong thighs, everything in Joker displayed not raw strength, but dexterity. Finesse. Allure, too, when he showed off his rounded backside, then came closer, pretending to not know that those hard, pink nipples begged to be sucked. And what about that cock, crowned by dark curls, just the right size...

… and very familiar, now that Ren paid attention. In fact, they had the same grooming habits. Without the heels and the coat, Joker wasn’t as tall and intimidating as he thought — damn, he wasn’t even as big as Ren expected, actually, they… looked the same.

“Noticed something different?”

One’s appearance in the Metaverse was based on their own idea of a rebel, Ren never forgot it. And his idea of a rebel was someone who did whatever they wanted, looked cool at it, and didn’t care about what other people would think. _Body type had nothing to do with it._

“No, I mean, can you show me your wrists?” Ren said, just to be sure.

Even under soft, dim lighting, the handcuff scars could be seen. Faded, thin, but still there — reminders of the violence he faced, the suffering he endured. Despite being split in two bodies, Ren and Joker were one: maligned and brutalized, yet thriving against all odds.

“The lotus rises over grime every morning, its blossom always unscathed and beautiful,” Joker said, tracing the same scars on Ren’s wrists.

Heat rose to Ren’s cheeks, aware of the compliment hidden in the meaning of his name. “For once, my parents gave me something cool.”

Deep chuckles escaped from Joker’s throat. “Forget them,” he said, tracing Ren’s lips. “Remember, you’re free, so hold your head high and stop hiding yourself under bad posture and the shit your mom buys. Many men would kill for those grey eyes and wild locks of yours.”

“Can I keep the glasses?” Ren kissed Joker’s finger. “I like them.”

He left a peck on Ren’s nose in response. “Do what makes you happy.”

For a moment, they basked in each other’s presence, naked chests in shared heat, lips in a tender meeting. Flowers and ivy watched over them, vivid enough to blur the divide between dreams and reality.

 _Vivid dreams._ “Hey!” Ren broke the kiss, gliding his fingers over Joker’s temple. “About Dens. Are there others?”

“Of course,” Joker said, “and Haru’s really is a giant fairytale greenhouse.”

 _So she and Noir actually—_ “And how the hell do you know that?”

He winked, followed by his trademark smirk. “Do you think I’m stuck here all the time?”

Away from the hard floor of the gazebo, they laid on the grass, gazing at the blood-red stars. Joker stretched his limbs and rolled on his side, rubbing his head on Ren’s chest in such a way that it would surprise no one if he purred.

Ren played with his hair, twirling the longer strands. “Is there a trick to go out?”

“It’s complicated,” Joker said, voice no louder than a whisper. “You go down the elevator and get out of the building.”

A soft laugh, and Ren left a kiss on his forehead. “So, what about the others?”

“They all found their Dens before, but forget it for now.” He tugged at Ren’s skirt again, eyes wide, but always sharp. “I would love to get some large cloth to protect me from this cold grass, you know.”

“Protection, right,” Ren said, unwrapping his skirt, astonished with how many turns were needed to take it off. More than enough for a blanket, perhaps even for a tent. “Doesn't it get tiring to watch me naked all the time?”

Joker held the fabric, straightening it until it covered enough of the lawn. “Never.”

Words were not needed for both to lie side-to-side, hands clasped, mouths busy with kisses. All of their pointy bones and lean muscle didn’t curb the soft meeting of skin against skin, warmth spreading to Ren’s entire body. To let himself go, to just enjoy the sensations — for that, he would always open himself to Joker, surround himself in compliments uttered in his luscious voice, in blazing caresses done by his deft fingers.

Because with him, Ren _could_.

Yet mere contact wasn’t enough for someone who just discovered what being desired meant — he craved for intensity. Passion. Not warmth; actual heat. Breaking the kiss, Ren tightened his hold, grinding against Joker, friction setting his lust on fire, erection growing at each move.

And for once, Joker’s cheeks flushed, his eyes closed. Instead of witty comebacks, heavy breaths and loud gasps. As his cock hardened, he ground back in long, slow movements, as if he wanted to savour all of Ren’s skin against his own.

 _Delicate_ , _pretty_ , and _receptive_ were not the words Ren would use to describe Joker, but they did fit. He always imagined that he would never be on top, that he would have almost no time to breathe, not that they would be rubbing against each other in a romantic garden. But for every time their cocks touched, Ren hastened his pace, pushing useless thoughts aside in favor of the pleasure coming from within, his body getting as light as a lotus petal.

Gasps became moans, and most of them weren’t Joker’s. What a stupid mistake, to believe Joker was relinquishing control, when instead he was going slow and waiting for him to lose himself in his own arousal. Only then giving back with interest, letting go of Ren’s hands to grab their fully hard cocks together in strong, fast strokes.

He never saw it coming — but loved every moment of it.

 _Yes! More!_ And he melted and twitched at the lightest touch. If this was what Joker meant about his proposal, his gift, then Ren wouldn’t accept anything else. How could he spend eighteen years without knowing about the bliss of being indulged? He would make up for it every night!

But at a sudden break of contact, Ren feared an imminent awakening. What went wrong? To his relief, before he could ask, Joker grabbed his jeweled wrist and kissed his fingers, eyes gleaming with adoration.

“Let me.”

Getting up on his knees, legs apart, a drop of pre-come hitting the floor — yes, that was the powerful Joker, his Joker, licking his rakish grin like in all of his fantasies. A tap on the knee, and Ren spread himself open, half-lidded eyes not drifting away, daring him to lock his gaze on all of his exposed flesh, to grope it, kiss it, suck it, to do whatever he wanted.

“I love men who know how sexy they are,” Joker said, hands resting on Ren’s inner thighs, basking in their silkiness. A finger changed course, tracing his pubic hair, circling his erection but never touching it outright. Instead, he went down, lips nuzzling on his cock, up and down, ending with a long kiss on the head.

Torture, sensuous torture, to be cut off from overwhelming closeness just to be teased by those plump lips. But that kiss and the loud moan it drew out made Ren forgive everything. “Me too.”

His whispered answer was a call for Joker to hover over him, hips grinding against each other again, bringing back the floatiness, the blazes, the deep heartbeats, the intoxicating feeling of submitting to passion.

“You know...” Joker cupped Ren’s cheek, leaving a peck on his forehead. “I could pin your hands down, put you on all fours and stroke you from behind, suck you while you suck me, anything from your daydreams.” A kiss on his nose, another in his chin, and mouths met again, tongues imitating the erotic dance of their bodies. “But it’s impossible to choose.”

Velvety words, no more than whispers, yet imbued with a dark spell that overpowered Ren’s will, robbing him of anything more complex than wanting more touches, more thrills. With only instinct to guide him, he lifted up his legs, letting more of Joker’s delicious body rub against him. “Just make me come!”

“I will.” Joker sped up, his weight lending strength to his strokes, in a rhythm so frantic that his dashing countenance gave way again to parted lips and heavy lashes, dilated pupils and desperate moans. Any measure of control he had vanished when he fell on Ren, incapable of doing anything except rocking his hips and holding Ren’s hands, fingers entwined.

Ren’s legs trembled, his vision clouded, his hips thrust, and all that mattered to him was the lustful melody of their voices, the blend of their natural scents with lotus blossoms and sweat, the mutual yielding to the delights of sex. Just sex. Dominating his senses, his mind, his soul, his heart. Drowning him in so much, too much desire, that any second he would explode.

And for a brief yet endless moment he became darkness. Not the darkness of corruption and decay; the darkness of ecstasy, of pure sensuality, that freed him from the shackles of respectability and order.

Then absolute calm.

Joker’s cries of his name brought him back to the garden, crimson moonbeams peeking through the clouds. A brush of lips, and Joker’s seed mingled with his own. Hands set themselves free, and ego and alter ego both drifted in their afterglow, their bodies soon a tangle of relaxed limbs.

“I never would have imagined that all of this would make me feel so… powerful,” Ren said, hugging Joker around the small of his back.

“Well… then never forget it.” Joker rested his head at Ren’s neck. “That’s the feeling of a free heart.”


	4. Closet, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been split in two — hence the increase in the total chapter count. Don't worry, this fic won't grow like crazy!

One hundred thousand yen.

Almost his monthly wages, earned in a few hours by legal means. Haru obviously made a mistake and Ren would never take advantage of it. He fired off several messages about her misplacing a zero, that he would send her ninety thousand back as soon as she gave him her account number, that he wasn’t in a bad situation, that…

 **16:44 HARU:** I refuse.

 **16:46 HARU:** Okumura Foods has a name to clean, which means all of my collaborators will be paid fairly. That’s all.

He heard the lowering of her voice for every word read. Even her unhinged glee while handling an axe didn’t freeze his blood that much. He begged for mercy by sending a prostrating sticker, not taking her compassion for granted.

 **16:49 HARU:** It’s all right! Thanks for understanding!

At least he would live another day, freed from choosing between new boots or a jacket. Besides, as soon as he stepped out of the train, his biggest priority was a shipment of Colombian beans to roast — no time to waste on deciding which kind of clothes his mother hated the most to buy.

Rows of roasted bean jars on the shelf, a bucket of muddy water on the floor, arms sore from mopping, but the end of his shift gave him some hours to review his Sanitation lessons. Or would, if his phone didn’t ring right as he put everything in its place.

“Ren, that’s so unfair! Haru told me everything!”

Ann, made obvious from the American pop music in the background.

“I… don’t think she wanted suggestions for new sweets,” he said. 

“But I wanted to try her _charlotte royale_...”

If Haru told her all the details, payment included, then he should thank the heavens it was Ann talking, instead of Makoto. He could already hear her unwanted advice, from saving almost everything for emergencies and spending what was left on a suit, because it was time for job interviews even if he already was employed, _blah blah blah._

Fuck no! Makoto’s friendship was precious and saved his ass several times, but she wouldn’t ruin his fun. Sometimes she resembled his mother in the worst way.

“Hello? Ren?”

“... Sorry, I didn’t try that. Maybe one day we can all meet there?”

“Yeah!” Ann’s voice raised several notes. “We could order a big one and split it in, let me see, seven? Eigh— Ah, before I forget! Haru asked me to go shopping with you, is Sunday fine? Ryuji will join, too.”

For someone who was terrified of leading a conglomerate years ago, Haru became quite the mastermind. “Sure. Anything else?”

“Bring Morgana, I miss him!”

Deal sealed, but with the start of his Kitchen Lab classes and packed days at Leblanc, Ren planned nothing. Even Joker took pity on him, letting him sleep with no interruptions.

Sunday came in a flash, with Morgana kneading his neck and bright sunlight passing through uncovered window panes. A glance at the phone dispelled Ren’s fears of sleeping too much — he had more than enough time for breakfast and dressing up.

Old off-white sweater, grey polo that used to be black, a promise to Morgana that he would buy him sushi, and then _that_ t-shirt.

Bought on a whim in Harajuku and the source of endless shouting matches at his old home. More guarded than any heist money. Black dye unfaded, red occult motifs intact. A year and a half later and it still hugged his torso like his thief vest, its deep V collar baring half his chest.

_Hell fucking yes._

With Morgana inside his bag, Ren headed to their usual meeting spot in Shibuya station, struggling to not flatten the poor cat against the riders. Sundays were packed, yes, but not to the point he could mistake it for the cherry blossom season from weeks ago. A blonde woman leaned over the railing, typing on her phone with long painted nails — Ren had to warn the group to find another place to meet up.

They must have been close, since his phone buzzed with a message from Ann saying she was already there and—

“Renren!”

He gasped from Ryuji’s unexpected hug, and Ann joined them, taking a group selfie. Damn, he didn't recognize her with heavier makeup and loose hair! What a lack of uniform and hairstyle regulations did to a girl…

“Lady Ann! You look like a famous actress today...” Morgana said, getting scritches. Nice save — Ren had to buy him a larger sushi box in return, or else he would be put to bed at eight.

Loud music blared from the _705 Men’s_ speakers, driving anyone older than twenty-five away from the building. After some small talk about their colleges, Ryuji pulled Ren by the wrist, guiding him to a shop where he extolled the coolness of its sneakers.

A yellow and cyan number fitted Ryuji well, but Ren couldn’t find a model he liked. Were combat boots that unfashionable?

“No!” Ann said. “It’s just that this brand is too sporty for you!”

He had better luck with trousers — ripped denim, not leather. Easier to coordinate, to not say of their lower cost, according to her advice. Tight t-shirts, belts, round sunglasses, and a handcuff necklace later, they found themselves at Big Bang Burger.

Orders placed, and Ann pulled out a small notebook, doodling a girl in lace lingerie with messy lines — an improvement from Shujin art classes, where stick figures were her best.

“Is it for college?” Ren said, adjusting his glasses.

“Just practice.” She added fluffy heels to the drawing. “I’ll see if it looks good on me at night.”

Ren’s above-average grades in Home Economics screamed bullshit — no one sewed delicate lingerie, stockings included, in one evening. If she bought it, she would’ve tried it before. Unless…

“In your Den?”

Ryuji and Ann stared at him in silence. Did they keep it a secret? Did something happen before he awakened to his own? Did they sleep with their alter egos?

“That’s right, and…” A smile lit up Ann’s face. “What, did you get yours? Finally!”

“Hey, awesome!” Ryuji said, resting his hand on Ren's shoulder. “What does it look like, man?”

Between burgers and fries, two facts: a Den without an awakened Dweller was closed to any visitors and no matter how much an alter ego wandered around dreams, no Dweller meant no memories. Damn! Ren preferred a couple of nights at Ryuji’s tropical island or Ann’s royal suite to returning to Shujin or doing hard labor in prison with his parents as wardens.

Morgana nibbled Ren’s hand, making him drop his fries on the floor. “You hid it from me for two weeks? I could’ve explained it since the beginning!”

Just when he could eat them without burning his tongue! “Then why didn’t you?”

“I— I was busy, okay? Was checking if everything was fine for your awakening!”

Ann offered her fries. “He wanted me to try all the cat brushes on his fur!”

“But… but… that was a secret between us!”

A talk or two about ruby necklaces, sparkling sands, and catnip mice later, they reached Harajuku, where Ann insisted that its fashions suited Ren better. After passing through dozens of boutiques, he conceded again — Shibuya was nothing but a watered-down version of the true subculture heaven of Harajuku, with all of those stylish people not giving a damn about what old people thought! 

Nowhere else could he find that red leather tailcoat with two rows of buttons and a collar as wide as his thief coat. Even Ryuji splayed his hands at the glass, mouth ajar, and for a second Ren swore Joker was right between them, devising a plan to steal that treasure.

The price, though… He missed the 705 Men’s already.

“Boys? It’s gorgeous, but...” Ann said. “Thrift stores here are crazy good. You can find brand stuff there!”

If the fashion student said it, why would he disagree? As long as he found what he wanted…

The jacket was easy — not a tailcoat, but made of red leather, with enough biker flair to make Makoto beg to try it, and a fair price. To the shopping bag!

Ryuji tapped his shoes. “For real, do you want to buy more stuff? Don’t make me carry your stuff later, man…”

“I still don’t have enough to look like the picture of youth corruption.”

Ann stared at Ren’s eyes like Yusuke did at interesting sights, then grinned.

“Wait for me here, I need to check something. I’ll be quick!”

“C’mon, let me go with—” Too late; she already left. “Shit, nothing good will come from this, don’t you think?”

Ren thought nothing, eyes locked on _those_ military boots. A quick word with a saleswoman confirmed that they were of his size, and were as comfortable as his old sneakers when he tried them on.

“Man, don’t you think those… Are girl’s boots? Those heels, you know…”

“Shut up, you have no taste.”

Ryuji and Morgana could argue whenever they wanted; he would not change his mind about the boots. Giving them no attention, Ren paid for the goods, adding another bag to his full hands.

“If I wear them, they’re guy boots.”

The weight of leather made him sympathize with Ryuji: after this shop, he wanted to drop everything on his bed, but Ann probably found a sale and wouldn’t go back soon. Leaving the bags at his feet, he unlocked his phone to give her a heads-up, but…

“Hey!” Ann handed him a small, pink package. “This is for you!”

Black nail polish, mascara, and eyeliner. “Thanks, but I—”

“Trust me, if you really want to look sexy, you’ll need them. I’ll send video tutorials later.”

Back on the streets, the group decided to have a last look at the shops before parting ways, despite Ann’s protests. And what the hell, was that a kimono with a lobster print? Damn, he had to take a picture for Yusuke, if only for a laugh. Handing out his bags, he loaded the camera, just to realize it wasn’t a lobster, but a bright red koi.

“Why didn’t you call Yusuke?” Ren said. “He would like this.”

“I did! But you know, he was like…” Ann put some hair over her left eye and straightened her shoulders, dropping her voice. “No matter how much you insist, I cannot accept an invitation to the auditive hell of the 705. Send Ren my apologies.”

“Loud music offends my sensibilities.” Ryuji covered his face, pretending he was about to faint.

Morgana popped off his bag. “Such indignity!”

All right, that deserved a laugh. “It’s the second time he couldn’t meet me.”

“I can text him saying you miss him, if you want,” Ann said.

“No, it’s fine.”

Truth — Yusuke wouldn’t go to a place he hated without a reason, even if meeting up after half a year wasn’t a good enough one for him. Besides, when was the last time they had a chance to elaborate about the stars, or the future, or their hearts without fellow friends or shared duties interrupting them? Crap, Ren couldn’t remember.

Guess it was up to him to invite Yusuke to a calm, beautiful location. Inokashira, Yoyogi, any park would be good, although Leblanc could work in a pinch. But until they met, Ren would resign himself to check on Yusuke by phone — that is, if he wasn’t so busy with his paintings to the point of text messages bothering him.

Paintings, Haru’s past invitation, the art book at the café… _Yes._

“I have to do something, sorry. But thanks,” Ren said, cheeks flushing. “I had lots of fun. Missed you guys.”

After hugs and promises of meeting up again, he left his bags at home, only to return to Shibuya, searching without success for the same Mucha book Haru had. However, a cover with a picture of an ancient courtesan drew his attention.

 _Utamaro Kitagawa_ , known by _Yusuke_ when he was an adult, as Ren’s Art classes taught him. A better gift than any book about a Western artist. No doubt Yusuke would recognize the allusions; in fact, there was a chance he knew about that book. No problem — in the past, he treated any trinket related to art, beauty or traditional cuisine as a blessing from the gods, and Ren had little evidence to assume he changed, financial stability aside. A safe buy.

A last stop at the convenience store to get Morgana’s sushi, and Ren called it a day. No gaming tournaments, no fussy dinners, no journal entries. Just some music and Morgana sleeping on his lap for hours. If only it was raining and there was someone right at his side, ruffling his hair…

Oh right, rain, which led to Yusuke, who would only receive the gift if Ren told him about it. No surprises or sending by mail — damn, he didn’t know his new address! He wanted long talks in the attic, not losing Yusuke again to his art or their louder friends.

 **21:31 REN:** Yusuke

 **21:32 REN:** I bought something for you, come here when you can.

No response; chances were that Yusuke’s evening lent itself to a deep, productive work session. Ren couldn’t complain — he frustrated his classmates all the same when he declined every get-together after classes. Well, time for some reheated curry and separating his books for the week.

Nothing yet.

 **22:04 REN:** I miss you.


	5. Closet, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the second half!

Maybe Morgana conditioned him, maybe maturity kicked in, maybe it was tiredness, but Ren went to bed without ceremony, not expecting he would fall asleep so soon.

Wrong — as soon as he closed his eyes, he left consciousness, waking up to light reflected on black lacquered wood and an ornate mirror. The mirror showed him sitting on a plush bench, dressed in his new clothes. At his side, shelves full of clothes; behind him, more clothes. Last, at his other side, Joker opened the door, with lined eyes and the tailcoat from Harajuku on his shoulders.

“I loved your gift.” Joker kissed Ren’s hand. “We should go on more dates. I had lots of fun, too.”

Gift, how? He liked it a lot, but he never bought— Oh, it worked like the salmon dinner or Ann’s lingerie. Cool.

Ren kissed Joker’s free hand in return. “Amazing, right? There’s still some money left, so maybe next week…” What? That was during daytime! “Excuse me, ‘we’?”

“Yes, ‘we’. Anytime you follow your passions, it’s us working together. Like in the Metaverse, but without the drama and the acrobatics.”

So that was what Joker meant about ‘being allowed to rise’ before. His presence in the shop window wasn’t a hallucination, his suggestions at Ren’s poetry weren’t just deep thoughts, his ghostly touches when masturbating… Okay, the dreams were hotter.

“That sucks, though. I miss the acrobatics.”

Joker sat at Ren’s side, pressing his nose. “Ask Yoshizawa for more classes when she returns, then.”

“Last thing I want is spending my free time on classes.”

“Fair. They would ruin our dates.” He stretched his arms, revealing elastic straps under his t-shirt. “Even if we needed some outside help for today.”

“The girls played me like… I mean, their plan was  _ that _ simple, I just never expected them to follow it without a reason,” Ren said, leaning on Joker’s shoulder. “Nice of them, but I can’t get used to it.”

“Can’t get used to what?”

“All of this. Nice surprises, people not asking me to tone myself down, little gifts… I can’t go soft.” His fingers hovered on Joker’s hand, but in the end, Ren didn’t hold it. “Just because I came from a good family doesn’t mean that I have to act spoiled.”

Wait, where did that come from?

Joker’s playfulness gave way to a severe tone. “You mean you don’t want to be treated with kindness? Ren, I thought you got over that. Got so proud of how you acted today and—”

“No, not like that. Just… look, I know it’s okay to be myself and that my friends really do care, it’s just…” Okumura’s death, being drugged and beaten during his interrogation, two months in juvie, all flashed through his mind, reflecting on his erratic gasps. “I can’t get distracted. Something bad will happen and I have to stay sharp.”

“Of course bad things will happen, that’s life. But denying the good in order to always keep your guard up, afraid of any little thing working against you? Sure, you get sharp. But also brittle, and you’ll shatter in your first struggle. That’s not courage to me.” He ruffled Ren's bangs, a little tenderness returning to his words. “Besides, I still have yet to see you act spoiled for once.”

His soft fingertips brought Ren back to the moment, his breathing returning to a normal pace. “You’re not wrong but, you know... the more you talk about it, the more I think what I went through was fucked up,” he said, holding onto Joker’s arm. “I don’t want it to happen again.”

“It was and it won’t.” Joker kissed his forehead, voice no louder than a whisper. “Tell me, what did you lose by following your heart for once? Something you could control?”

Freedom? No, he had no idea about Shido at the time. Respect? The more time he spent in Tokyo, the more he realized he never had it before. Goro? As much as they confided in each other, Goro brought his downfall by playing prince and refusing to face his true feelings until too late.

And Joker was trying to save Ren from the same fate. White prince, black rogue, all disguises for boys who weren’t strong enough to treat themselves like people instead of tools, and disregard the accusations of weakness and unmanliness from society.

“Nothing.” It was fine — no, it was an act of rebellion, of self-respect, to feel joy in stripping his soul bare to receive words of support. To bask in the comfort of nuzzling his head on Joker’s neck, cozy and warm. To receive love, to give love. “Thanks. I get it now.”

“Exactly.” Joker’s hand slid to Ren’s nape, combing the thick curls that framed it. “And lastly, what did you lose by acting tough when you didn’t need to?”

He didn’t ponder much. No matter how much he enjoyed looking at the girls at the beach, or the boys at the bathhouse, relationship drama was the last thing he’d wanted as a Phantom Thief. A useless distraction that would end with him playing favorites and ruining the team strategies. A challenge that Ren chose not to face. 

Only for the relationship drama that ended up happening not being romantic in nature.

“Love.” Maybe if he had accepted it before, his suffering would have been easier to bear. But then, it was all in the past.

“What you needed the most. Not that friendship doesn’t count as love, just...” Joker turned around, pulling away from Ren’s hold, then cupping his cheeks with both hands, heads meeting close enough to allow the scent of caramel mocha to surround them. “Don’t you remember our last night? You need that intimacy, that sweetness. And I’ll give it all.”

Memories of passion spoke louder than any argument. Ren’s eyelashes fluttered, his warming body craving more of that intense affection. “Then do it.”

“Oh, you’ll get so spoiled...” Faces met in a deep kiss, all tongues and sighs and silky lips. Joker leaned over him, lower and lower, until Ren lay on red suede, arms under Joker’s coat, firm around his waist.

More elastic straps, taut and sturdy, guiding Ren’s fingers around Joker’s back. Hard rings where straps met, concealed from a distance, visible under tight black cotton when viewed closely. What was that? He could lift up that annoying fabric to check it, but that kiss! A worse weakness than white magic, draining his will of anything but offering his body to Joker, allowing himself to be dominated in full.

Yet the kiss ended, giving back his agile mind. As Joker caught his breath, Ren pushed his t-shirt over his chest, red lines standing out against milky skin.

Before Ren could make sense of it, Joker, alertness triggered like a cat’s, did the same to him, pinching his exposed nipples in retaliation. “Don’t ruin the surprise.”

“Show it, or else I’ll go back to sleep.” No fun in being dominated if Joker did the minimum to entice him. All of that heart-to-heart about love and intimacy, and he would be left covered? 

“All right.” Standing up and propping a foot on the bench, Joker stretched his arms as if he would unlace a boot; instead, dark magic swirled around him, taking everything off except for the coat and the straps, with their geometric pattern framing his chest, abs, and cock, but covering nothing. “Nice body cage, huh? Panther’s gift.”

Gorgeous, rakish — Ann and Panther did an amazing job by designing it and choosing Joker as their model, then... “What?”

“Two months ago. Got bored, paid a visit, and she gave me two sets.”

No one gave fetish lingerie to others without second intentions. Ren was aware of her past crush, but… two years. “Damn, now I get why she gave me makeup.”

“Not Ann. Panther. She let her rest that day.”

But if Ann wasn’t there, how could he... “Then how did you get inside?”

“A Dweller only needs to know their Den exists, then it’s visible to others. They don’t have to appear every night. And relax,” Joker said, adjusting Ren’s glasses. “It was a casual visit. You’re not in trouble, I promise.”

Cheating? No, he had no idea about Dens months ago. But damn, Joker just… visited her and all-but-admitted to sleeping around? Ren couldn’t judge — if he did, Joker would call him out on his harem fantasies. Even so, he couldn’t let him get away with his naughtiness, oh no. With a growing smirk and a sharp gaze, an idea passed though his mind. “But you are.”

“C’mon, Ren, sleeping with someone doesn’t mean it’s seri—”

“I know.” He sat upright, spreading his legs and unbuckling his belt. “Now, kneel.”

Joker obeyed with a little smile, resting his face on Ren’s crotch. “Can I make you more comfortable, please?”

At Ren’s hum of approval, the dark swirls appeared again, replacing his clothes with a black body cage. A different pattern, but it emphasized his lithe torso just as well. And the sight of Joker’s reflection in the mirror, in such a submissive position, weakened Ren’s legs. However, leather covered too much of his back to leave him satisfied.

“Your coat, now.”

Joker slid a hand inside it, letting it slip away from shoulders, arms, then drop to the floor. “Are you sure you want me to stay like this?”

“Pretty much.” Ren grabbed the coat and wore it without ceremony, allowing the reflection of those unblemished, plump buttocks to spread heat through his body. “You said you would spoil me, right? Do it with your mouth.”

“Yes, sir.”

Gentle caresses were all that he needed for his cock to harden, ready for Joker to kiss its head. Slow, wet, blazing: more than enough for Ren to sigh and thrust his hips, craving more of that tongue.

A gasp, and Joker grabbed the shaft with one hand, pleasuring himself with the other. After a long breath, he took Ren’s cock inside his mouth again, this time deeper, circling his tongue around the head, applying more pressure just behind the slit, his gaze never straying away from Ren’s face.

The confidence of an experienced lover, expressed not with words, but wicked technique. If Joker’s bed-hopping resulted in becoming the best at making him pant and tremble, all was forgiven. Yet Ren wished to revel in his flushed cheeks, his heaving chest, his eager strokes; torture him a little more. “Don’t come before me.”

“Too easy,” Joker said, licking his lips, then going back and forth on Ren’s cock, occupying his mouth in full. And for every rub, suck, and kiss, Ren tended more and more to agree, sliding his hips closer to the edge, making it easier for Joker to crush him with desire, to drown him in the softness he so much encouraged.

At the brush of fingertips against his balls, Ren lost all pretense of dominance. How could he, with a devil of a trickster as his lover, who knew every secret to bring out loud moans from his throat, to make a simple tongue flick spread heat all over his aroused body? Impossible, especially when Joker traced a wet trail down his shaft, then balls, ending with a sloppy, thorough kiss that sent waves of bliss from head to toe, making his full erection twitch with need.

And when Ren regained the strength to face himself in the mirror, from darkened eyes to perky nipples, swaying hips to glistening head, he understood why Joker cherished his bare skin so much: no fancy coat lent him more allure than a willing display of vulnerability, a yielding to tenderness, a rejection of function over self.

No more Barista Ren, Student Ren, Consultant Ren. As he rested uncovered, delighting in Joker fondling him lower and lower, wet lips embracing his aching cock, he was only Ren. No, not merely that, and his heart beat stronger at the realization that, no matter what he did, at least someone — himself — saw the Soft Ren. Sweet Ren.

Lovely Ren.

Brought to ecstasy by his Lovely Joker, who gave him looks of devotion, kisses of passion. Deeper, deeper, with a finger nearing his entrance, dancing around it, nudging it with the lightest pressure, and then it was over. Not because of the sensation, but because of Joker’s eagerness to overwhelm his body with fire. And so overwhelmed Ren was, he could only scream, releasing his seed.

Joker moved his head away, a smile on his face, licking his lips. “Am I still in trouble?”

When awareness returned amidst the ebbing haze of his orgasm, Ren shifted his hips back on the bench, tapping the new empty space between his legs. “Not at all. Come here.”

And so Joker did, sprawling all over Ren’s lap, cock hard and slick with pre-come, legs apart for easier access. So comfortable — even when not taking initiative, Joker acted like he owned the place. Which was true, in a way, but why did it matter when he gasped from Ren’s trail of kisses along his neck and nimble fingers under his straps?

With an arm tight around Joker’s chest, kisses evolving into gentle nibbles, Ren put his free hand over his inner thighs. If he was in Joker’s place, he would melt if Joker teased him a little more instead of going right to his cock, like there wasn’t—

_ That’s it! _

Loosening his grip, Ren grazed over the tip of a nipple, receiving quick kisses in return. For a second, both locked their eyes, too caught up in the moment to speak any words. And as Joker rested his head on his shoulder, Ren reenacted their first meeting, gliding fingers down Joker’s pubic hair, but instead of moving up, he indulged in its silkiness, pretending to brush a knuckle or two along his shaft.

Joker rocked his hips against Ren’s hand, eyes shut, a moan or two escaping his throat. Droplets of sweat mingled with his musky cologne, exuding the scent of sex. “Please...”

As lips met for another kiss, its sweet aroma weakened by the aftertaste of his own come, Ren grabbed Joker’s cock, rubbing it with firm, long strokes, drawing out louder moans and full-body trembles. Breaking the kiss, he increased his pace, delighting in the way Joker displayed himself, all stretched legs and even messier hair, begging for Ren, for more.

“I’ll spoil you too,” Ren said, stroking him harder, almost like touching himself, so familiar his body was. And no matter how they looked the same, Joker’s lack of shame even at his most passive added to his roguish appeal. Weak and emasculated he wasn’t, no matter how much he blushed and screamed under Ren’s rapid hand, no matter how beautiful he looked when he kissed Ren for the last time, sprinkling come between his fingers.

For a moment Joker lay still, his breathing returning to normal as his grin widened. “Remind me to anger you more.”

“You got it wrong.” Ren would tug a lock of hair, but noticed the state of his right hand at the last minute. “I just wanted to mess with you.”

Joker stood up, pulling out a handkerchief from a drawer. “If  _ that’s _ the way you mess with me, no need for games. Just ask,” he said, cleaning Ren’s hand. “But if you want me to stay exclusive to you, no problem.”

“Do what you want with the others’ inner selves. But if you want to sleep with Ann or Yusuke instead of Panther or Fox, talk to me first.” Ren also left the bench, hugging Joker from behind. “I don’t want to let them think I’m seducing them in their sleep; that’s creepy.”

“You hate fun, has anyone told you that?” Joker turned around, kissing Ren’s forehead. “Just kidding. Same as usual, then.”

Ren buried his nose in Joker’s hair, a watery floral scent coming from his shampoo. He could get used to keeping his guard down and enjoying his youth. Maybe after killing a god his life wouldn’t be a game rigged against his happiness. And if something stood in his way, he had love: from his friends during the day, from Joker at night, but always lending him strength. He could rely on them. No shame in being spoiled a little.

“Before I forget,” Joker said, “gotta say that this is what I’ve wanted you to do since the beginning. Glad to see you still learn fast.” A kiss on the nose, a peck on Ren’s lips. “I was already full of pride when I saw your new clothes, but after you seized your desire and poured it all on me? Couldn’t be prouder. We really are the same, after all.”

“We are.” Ren kissed Joker back, heart bursting with joy, eyes open to all the ways his future could be glorious. Thrills, frills, and romance — he deserved it. “Which means I can do everything you can, right?”

“Hell. Fucking. Yes.”


	6. Bathroom, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the great comments! And again, we'll have a two-parter :)

“Shinobu and Mariya, right?” Sojiro said, placing two steaming mugs of coffee on the counter. “The boy’s never talked about you two.”

Letting the girls from college follow him to Leblanc wasn’t a bad idea. That is, until Sojiro sicced him on them, forcing him to elaborate about his personal life. But what could Ren do, other than leaving them alone, getting in trouble with Sojiro and ruining his good graces with them?

Nothing. He had to work for a living instead of lazing all day in a penthouse. But damn, Boss could make it easier by ordering him to serve other tables or prepare more curry.

“I’ve never had a girlfriend. Got too much on my plate to worry about one, you know.”

“You brew amazing coffee, and look like a model,” Shinobu said, holding her mug with two hands. “Husband material, and I say that not as your Kitchen Lab partner, but as a woman!”

Past Ren would keep his head down and offer them water. Present Ren, however, needed no escape routes. “Thanks. But I don’t want to marry young.”

A scoff from Sojiro, disappointed sighs from the girls, a TV special about a guy who fluctuated between delirium and stupor, and Ren earned his chance to work in peace.

Four hours of carrying hot plates later, and he had never imagined dealing with customers would be better than taking it easy with classmates. At least they didn’t treat him like a monster after his answer.

“That rejection broke my heart too.” Sojiro filled his bowl with the miso ramen Ren made for dinner. “I get waiting until reaching eighteen, but when will you have fun? College girls are usually fine with casual stuff, if that’s the problem.”

“Not interested.” Ren filled two bowls, and gave one to Futaba. “I can deal with my love life by myself.” 

“Never will, it looks like.” After trying some noodles and seaweed, Sojiro smiled, eyes closed. “I still can’t believe you spent a year with beautiful girls and dated none. If only you put the same effort into them as you do your cooking, well...”

“Yeah, they’re all super cute and you didn’t care. Are you—” Futaba said, slurping noodles and spilling broth everywhere, almost choking on her food after realizing what she actually said. “Sojiro, you just talked cringe!”

He chuckled, patting her head. “No, you’re the cutest.”

“Dad, come on!”

The discussion changed to a long debate on the finer points of cringe, with Futaba hogging the spotlight, Sojiro nodding with amusement, and Ren poking holes in her arguments by mentioning her past actions. It ended with her losing a bet, having to follow Ren the next time he shopped for ingredients.

“Well, then. See you tomorrow.” With those words, Sojiro and Futaba left, leaving Ren free to rest. After sweeping the floor and brushing Morgana, he went to the bathhouse, only to find a locked door. _Too late._

A glance at the phone — also too late to pay a visit to the Sakura household for a bath. That left him with his old friends, the restroom sink and a soapy washcloth.

Ren’s only luxury, taken away by nerdy lingo in the middle of April. Whoever said that cold baths were the true mark of manliness would have their heart changed as soon as he learned their name. And as if it couldn’t get any worse, someone banged on the door right at the moment he was about to rinse his hair.

Damn, what did Futaba forget? No sign of her cell phone or notebook in the booths. Umbrella? It wasn’t raining before! School bag? She wasn’t in uniform when they met! Whatever — tying a towel around his waist, Ren slammed the door open, ready to extend her punishment for a month.

“It seems that I came at an inconvenient time. Please accept my apologies.”

Oh, well... at least Yusuke wouldn’t call him a pervert for his current attire.

“No, come in.”

Ren, conditioner dripping on his face, explained himself, offering Yusuke a seat. To his surprise, no deliberations about Futaba’s attitude came from Yusuke, who pulled out a sketchbook and some pens, keeping his small smile as he turned its pages until he found a drawing he liked.

“Your predicament brings me so many memories. Take your time.”

The freezing tap water assured Ren that it wasn't weird to get almost naked around Yusuke, that there was no problem since they’ve bathed together before, that if they haven’t, he was an artist and used to live models, and even if he wasn’t, it was nothing but bad timing, no matter what his racing pulse said otherwise.

In his pajamas, Ren called Yusuke upstairs, nudging a sleepy Morgana away from the artbook. Some disgruntled meows later, he wiped cat hair off the cover, handing Yusuke his gift.

“For you. Bought it last Sunday.”

Yusuke’s eyes widened like a child’s, holding the book by the edges like a priceless painting. “Now there will be no need to borrow an exemplar from the library. Thank you, I will cherish it with all my heart.”

The same fascination he expressed for all of Ren’s little gifts, from free plates of curry, to Castella cakes and replacement brushes. But he never looked so beautiful, with his shoulder-length hair, long lashes and elegant figure, even taller than before.

Or perhaps Yusuke’s artistic inclinations were rubbing off on him.

“If you came here earlier, I could’ve served you some ramen,” Ren said. Ramen, sukiyaki, katsudon... He wouldn’t mind washing a ton of pots and bowls every day in return for Yusuke’s smile. Indulge him with delicious food, get indulged back by his happiness.

“Oh, I have had some grilled fish for dinner. You need not worry.”

Yusuke bowed his head, then sat on the old sofa, leafing through the book. At his side, Ren looked at the pictures, admitting his envy for the bathers and admiring the detail on the courtesans’ kimonos.

“They are certainly gorgeous,” Yusuke said, turning to a page with a full-page erotic print. “Yet many times I wonder why beauty is an accomplishment of women. Do not mistake me for rejecting their allure, I still appreciate the female form, but… sometimes it feels like I do it because I am told to.”

No matter how good his grades were on the humanities, Ren couldn’t give an answer that matched in eloquence. Yusuke would not judge him about that, though. “Well, they look soft. And even when they’re all messy I still want to, you know, touch them.”

“You see, Ren, I do not partake of your opinion.” He brushed his bangs, letting them sweep over his left eye. “What stirs me is a similar theming and composition, but applied to a young male subject. A muscular or a willowy frame entices me all the same, both presenting innumerous aesthetic features. Some could say it is a perversion of the craft, but this is the direction I wish to follow with my work. Please do not think any less of me for that, I insist.”

Relationship drama. Ruined strategies. Favoritism. Even with Ren’s two year old hunch being right, what good would dating a guy have brought him at the time? Mutual love, of course, but new rumors, an opening to harsher blackmail, and the risk, no matter how small, of their other teammates rejecting them. Juvie didn’t break him, but direct bigotry would be the last straw.

And back in the present, Yusuke proved his strength over him by confessing his truth, the art metaphors lending it more sincerity.

A second chance? Too early to tell — Ren did miss him and past circumstances conspired to keep them no closer than partners in crime, disregarding their wishes. But to call him an old flame would be a reach: longing wasn’t love, no matter how much Yusuke offered the comfort, the pleasure, the peace he so much craved.

On the other hand, Joker’s words resonated through his mind: wanting to keep in touch didn’t mean he wanted a boyfriend.

Nothing to lose. “I feel the same about guys, too, in fancy kimonos or not. But I get it.” Ren winked, flashing a grin and lowering his voice. “I can pose naked for you, if you want.”

A rosy tint colored Yusuke’s cheeks, bringing a wide, open smile with it. “I will keep your offer in mind,” he said, chuckling and rearranging himself to sit sideways, narrow eyes in full view. If not for the humble surroundings and the sketchbook peeking out of his open messenger bag, he looked like one of those reclining women from European paintings.

Damn, Ren _got it._

His trance ended with the thump of the sketchbook hitting the floor, falling open to a two-page spread of a drawing in black, red, and blue. Two men in a close embrace, one nude, other in an untied kimono. The blue hair was Yusuke’s, the mask with red accents…

_...Fox’s._

Which meant that sleeping with one’s alter ego wasn’t Ren’s particular kink, nor another perverted fantasy. Of course, just because Yusuke did it wasn’t proof that everyone also did, but… Yeah, not the best way to reveal his sex life.

What started as a soft tint became the spillage of a broken ink bottle on Yusuke’s face. “I must again ask you to not think any less of me...”

“You caught me wet in a towel; we’re even.” Ren picked up the sketchbook, red ink also hitting his cheeks, struggling to not pay attention to how graceful his bare body looked on paper. “Anyway, that’s about your Den, right? Joker and I, you know… We do the same, yeah.”

“I see…” Yusuke took a deep breath, eyes closed, holding both art and sketchbooks against his chest. “This reminds me that Ryuji called me last Sunday night, excited about your awakening. We talked for hours, and I ended up forgetting to answer your texts. My apologies, again.”

“Don’t worry.” Ren cleaned his glasses. “I thought you were busy with new paintings, though.”

“I was, until his call. If not for the subject, I would admonish Ryuji for bothering me.” Despite fate handing him the boon of material security, in some ways he was still the same old Yusuke. “A penthouse suits you well, Ren. High in the skies, with a view obstructed by nothing. The dwelling of a free man. I would love to see it.”

“Never thought about that. The huge windows and the red moon are cool, though.” Freedom. Not just from society’s judgement, but freedom to live and love, too. His heart’s — Joker’s, his own — desire. Yes, it made lots of sense. “I still didn’t see all of it, but feel free to visit us any time you want.”

“Fox guided me through the entire property and the gardens of my own, but most of the woods are unexplored. That said, it would be lovely if you agreed to join us for a picnic under the plum trees, their blossoms dusted with snow. After that, we should—”

“Don’t ruin the surprise,” Ren said, watching his reflection inside Yusuke’s eyes. “Since you’re an artist, your Den must be incredible. I want to be impressed.”

Yusuke held his books tighter, his fingers trembling. “Ren, I… No… You have no idea of the weight of your words. Such trust in the beauty of my inner world, I… Yes. Please be my guest, you and Joker, it will be the utmost honor to be your host.”

“I will.” Winter picnics and Yusuke in layered kimono. Frosted plum blossoms matching his cheeks. A portable easel with Ren’s portrait. Joker lying on the blanket, sipping green tea like a courtesan. And would Fox know how to play the shamisen or the koto? To lean on Yusuke while surrounded by music would be lovely...

“If there is no more to talk about, I shall go.” His strong voice broke Ren’s reverie. “Tomorrow afternoon I will meet Haru to discuss the terms of her commission, so I must be well-rested. Now, if you excuse me...”

“One last thing.” Ren tugged on the strap of his bag. “I don’t care about the place, but we should hang out more often. Just us two. You know how the others can be loud or demanding.” He chuckled, and would say good night if not for a ghostly voice insisting that he had, again, nothing to lose. “You see, when I’m with you… even the smallest things look beautiful.”

“Ren!” Mercury eyes sparkled, tears pooling inside. But instead of crying, Yusuke clutched his body with the same care as his gift, only to release him all of a sudden. “Oh! Personal space, of course.”

Personal space be damned — Ren’s hands glided over Yusuke’s narrow shoulders, resting on his tiny waist. Even with his t-shirt and jacket covering it, his bony figure was obvious. No matter how deceptively strong he was, it lent Ren an irresistible urge to protect him. “It’s fine.”

“Is that so? Then,” Yusuke said, returning the hug. Chilly hands, long arms, and a gentle hold reassured Ren that yes, Yusuke would protect him back, as he vowed in the past. “Every week I will come here, to make sure you do not skip your bath. Then we shall go to the bathhouse together.”

By not caring about the place, Ren meant that they didn’t need to spend lots of money on ritzy hangouts, that any park or ramen joint would be great, not that Yusuke had to go from freaking Ueno to Yongen-jaya just to check on his personal hygiene like he was a child!

Yet he passed no judgment at his lapse of discipline, as his parents or Morgana would. The bathhouse was indeed a nice place to go on and on about any subject in peace. And they had bathed together before; the proposal wasn’t suspect. The kind of idea only Yusuke Kitagawa could have, but a good idea no matter what. “You know what? I’m in.”

And as drowsiness got the better of Ren’s body, Yusuke tucked a stray black lock behind his ear, wishing him a good night’s sleep. After following him to the door, mustering all of his brainpower to give him a coherent farewell, Ren crashed into the bed, almost falling over a startled Morgana.

“You two are so ridiculous together,” Morgana said, jumping to the floor.

“Shut up… Just missed him…”

“Yeah, right.” Morgana licked his paw. “I’ll go downstairs.”

Ridiculous, but with the courage to break the rule of men never accepting their full humanity, exchanging their happiness for a fragile social standing. Ridiculous, but after being stripped of the barest veneer of respect, Ren would settle for nothing but complete euphoria, condescending cats be damned. Because he desired beauty, desired luxury, and as he fell under darkness, feeling the warmth of Joker’s embrace, he knew he had the power to seize them.

And no one would steal it away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long-haired Yusuke is based on this drawing by Sula: https://twitter.com/SulaSafeRoom/status/1264261479970340866
> 
> Because eight months after Scramble weren't enough for Yusuke to get beta!Yusuke's hair length :P


	7. Bathroom, Part 2

“Careful, it’s slippery.”

Warm.

Tiny, warm crystals transforming into liquid as soon as they hit his skin — no! Water droplets from a huge rainfall shower towering above Ren, but not as blazing as Joker’s strong arms, protecting him from hitting his face against the floor.

“Oh, right. Thanks.” Marble and chrome everywhere, from the mosaic floor and mirrored cabinets to the gleaming sink and the round sunken tub, interrupted only by the actual crystals of the light fixtures and an infinity of fluffy red towels.

Wasn’t there a way to transfer that paradise into reality?

“Rough day, huh?” Joker released Ren, then lathered his hands with a lotus-shaped soap. “Now come here and let me clean you.”

Any idea of complaining about already being clean was shot dead by the sweet fragrance that emanated from the bubbles — the same as Joker’s shampoo — and a yearning for having his hands all over him, soothing away all the stress.

By the time Joker spread soap from his neck to his shoulders, kneading stiff muscles and undoing knots, Ren shed away his feeble pretenses of decorum, letting out long sighs and fondling the small of Joker’s back, soaked bangs sticking to their faces as their lips met, steam surrounding their figures.

“What happened for you to be so eager today?” Joker slicked back his hair, the exposed forehead lending him a mature charm. “We’ve barely talked.”

Rivulets of water caressed every contour of Ren’s muscles, every cascading drop a liquid kiss. The dinner, the opals, the lingerie, all paled in comparison to the decadence of showering in that gorgeous bathroom — it would be madness not to enjoy it. “I opened my eyes and found everything I wanted. Of course I wouldn't waste my time playing coy.”

Joker swept Ren’s bangs away from his eyes, fingertips resting on his temple. “Great answer. Let’s relax together, shall we?”

A nod, then soapy hands slid down Ren’s torso, rubbing his chest with slow, delicate strokes, like Joker was trying to reach his heart. And he succeeded, as Ren’s quickening heartbeats attested. Such gentleness softened him at each touch, a sprinkle of desire keeping him awake. To think he would never deserve the right to pleasure, what foolishness...

The sprinkle became a torrent when Joker reached his nipples, one in each hand, as he flicked, squeezed, pinched them, each move causing Ren to wallow in the sparks crackling on his skin. “Damn,” he said, “you like them a lot...”

“I’m the only one who knows how sensitive they are,” Joker whispered in his ear, twisting both nipples with just enough force to make them redder. “And how pretty you look after a little play.”

Only after those twists did the meaning of _hurts so good_ dawn on Ren’s mind. Then, Joker returned to softness, brushing the tips with featherlight touches, the contrast bringing Ren closer to his melting point. And if he looked lovely with tender nipples, so did Joker. “I see— _Ah!_ Pass me the soap, if you really know how good it feels…”

“Here, take it.”

Ren slathered soap on Joker’s chest until bubbles covered it in full, its scent spreading to the entire bathroom. After leaving a drenched kiss to his forehead, he rubbed his sides, up and down until his waist, then circled his pecs with slight pressure, never reaching his hard nipples. Slow, teasing, titillating, replacing the confident look on his face with lidded eyes and deep breaths, a sigh or two escaping his lips.

“Good...” Joker said, pulling Ren’s hips towards his own, grabbing his buttocks. “Keep going...” 

As the suds slid down Joker’s body, Ren massaged Joker’s nipples, rolling them between his fingers, then pinching and tugging as he moaned for more, making Ren grind against his hips in return. How could Joker be imposing, dominant, seductive, but have no compunctions in appearing naked and blushing, undoing himself under Ren’s hands?

By having a free, wild heart — relishing the thrills of life in full. No winners or losers in love, only different kinds of pleasure, and a willingness to engage in all of them. Soon they kissed again, hips frantic against each other, following the rhythm of their tongues, their shared warmth sending waves of desire to Ren’s half-hard cock.

“Hey, not so fast!” Joker picked up the soap, crouching in front of Ren. “Let me take care of your feet.”

“All right,” Ren said, subjecting one foot to frothy heel squeezes, arch rubs, and toe bends, every touch making him closer to floating, light as a bubble, soft as his gasps. And as Joker worked his way along his ankle, then calf, heat rising with each caress, Ren’s legs trembled, quick reflexes saving him from a nasty fall. “Don’t worry, I’m good. Go on.”

“If you say so...” Joker moved his nimble fingers to his thigh, kneads and strokes fading away the tension, while Ren supported himself, a hand on each wall. Western showers were nice, but nothing could replace a stool and a portable showerhead sometimes. Hmm, to be scrubbed by skinny hands and told he was a masterpiece before entering a traditional open-air bath…

Wait.

“Joker, one thing.” To think about Yusuke when Joker was kneeling at his feet — worse timing, impossible. But even if Yusuke was just a close friend, that didn’t mean it would stay like that, weekly bath house plans and all. Not that Ren wanted their relationship to change, but... “I won’t be single forever. What about us?”

“Why are you even asking me this? You can’t cheat on yourself, you know,” Joker said, getting up and wrapping Ren in his arms. “Our bond is special, and no one else can break it. Besides, Yusuke’s great, go get him!”

Good thing that Joker offered him support, or else his head would meet the wall. “Because we're both into guys? That means nothing.”

“Sure, sure. Just like telling him he makes everything beautiful wasn’t a confession. It’s okay, Ren.”

“I don’t want to leave you.” He nuzzled up against Joker’s shoulder, embracing him back, hot water falling down his body. “After what you did for me? I’m not that kind of man.”

_I am not like my parents._

Joker combed through wet locks, from the top of Ren’s head down to his neck. “Of course you aren’t,” he said, his intonation evoking the comfort of the lotus-strewn bathtub nearby and the warmth of a cup of tea on a rainy day. “And you don’t need to leave me. Your partner is your partner; I am, well, yourself. To be honest, I would be worried if you stopped talking to your friends to only stay close to me.”

And with Yusuke as a boyfriend, Ren could partake of that warmth outside his dreams. Was it love, or maybe a crush? Too early to tell. Would Yusuke make him happy? No doubt. “Weird that I started thinking about another guy after I got comfortable here.”

“Strength through bonds. As you get used to being cared for, you’ll want to be treated the same when awake. It’s normal.” Joker knelt down again, washing Ren’s other foot. “But if you forget me or go back to your doormat attitude because it’s ‘romantic’, we’ll have to talk.”

“Forget about you? When you’re at my side every time I go wild? Impossible.” Ren poured shampoo on his head, the whiff of lotus stronger in the clear liquid. “We’re forgetting about Yusuke’s feelings, though. Looks like he’s into me, but you know. He’s intense. Maybe he just wants to show off his dream artworks.”

At first Joker’s lips struggled to muffle his chuckles, but his widening grin begot hearty laughter. “Can you please quit your denial?” he said, standing up to massage Ren’s scalp. “You know how he is with art, and it does not involve almost crying after being complimented by an outsider. You have _nothing_ to lose!”

Steady pressure and thick foam blunted the edge of his remarks, devilish fingers rekindling the flame that their discussion had neglected. Yusuke by day, Joker by night: the mere idea of having the two made the water cold compared to Ren’s body, ghosts of Joker’s touches spreading over his skin. The only way Ren would lose was to pretend nothing romantic happened.

And he wouldn’t lose.

Joker opened the glass door with a flourish. “Come; I’ll show you something.”

“But my hair!” Ren said, shaking his head under the shower in a hurry to rinse it.

“We were both clean before. I don’t know why you washed it again.”

Ren spread some conditioner on his hair with a wink. “Liked the scent; wanted to try it.”

“So you like my scent. Good to know.” Joker stepped back with a smirk, hugging Ren’s waist from behind. “I’ll rub it all over you.” He kissed his neck, hands sliding down to fondle and squeeze Ren’s inner thighs. As his own erection grew, Joker thrust it against his smooth buttocks, freeing soft pants from Ren’s lips.

Each thrust instilled Ren with the need for more intimacy, his entrance twitching in response. When Joker fulfilled his wish by rubbing his cock with long, tight strokes, he spread his legs and bent over, moaning at the deeper fit of Joker’s cock between his cheeks, at the friction against his entrance.

And as the strokes and the thrusts quickened, the desire to be taken in full became more and more vivid, tinting his face crimson and seeping away the strength of his body to his throbbing, hard cock.

_Ravish me!_

“Don’t you have to rinse the conditioner out?” Joker said, his friskiness vanishing into a peck on Ren’s lips. “Meet me in the tub; I’ll show you what I told you there.”

To hell with that stupid shit that devious thief wanted to show! What did he do for that criminal to leave him alone and unsatisfied? Was that revenge for talking about Yusuke when Joker threw himself at his feet?

No, payback for messing with him at the mention of Panther but acting the same at their next meeting. Not anger, just mischievousness; Joker being Joker. Still a bloody delinquent, but a fair one — Ren deserved trickles of diluted conditioner and an aching erection for company.

But not for much longer, when Joker waited for him alongside the floating lotuses, savouring a chocolate truffle, chest and legs glistening from the fragrant oils in the water. As Ren stepped into the tub, lights dimmed into a subtle golden glow, courtesy of Joker fiddling with a tiny remote control.

“Do you want music? Chocolate?” Joker said, moving aside to let Ren sit closer to him, revealing a tiered lacquer box with more truffles. “I can bring champagne, too.”

Those dark eyelashes, that husky voice, those sharp shoulder blades... All parts of a trick, a wicked trick, to seem alluring and enticing, then ambushing Ren, overpowering him with his sensual body, letting the traces of exasperation vanish in mutual lust — wait, why did he get annoyed by Joker, again? “I want you.”

“Soon, I promise. Just look.” Joker closed the box, pushing it to Ren’s side. A metallic painting of a fox sniffing, no, kissing a lotus blossom adorned the lid, tiny stars reflecting on the silver lake. “Fox gave it to me.”

Gorgeous, opulent — the kind of treasure Yusuke would dream of obtaining or creating. Unlike the body cages, the box hinted at more than casual interest. But then, the _Sayuri_ still hung at Leblanc. “Doesn’t he mind that you’re sleeping with other people?”

“No,” Joker said, opening the box to eat another truffle, the empty space revealing a peek of a kimono sleeve on the bottom. “We reached an agreement about our courtship.”

Courtship. Handwritten poems, flower watchings, tea ceremonies and sneaking out for trysts at night, straight from the _Genji._ Grandiose in its subtle meanings, the relationship that no doubt Yusuke considered ideal. And if Ren had the time and money to indulge him, he would — something about having sex in opened silk kimonos stirred his libido, making his cock throb for attention. “Hope it doesn’t include leaving me waiting.”

Setting the top tier aside, Joker pulled out a translucent bottle from the middle one, holding a condom between his teeth. “Of course not.”

With rational thought left to an overlooked corner of his mind, Ren bent over the edge of the tub, legs spread once more, his entrance on full display, ready for Joker to take it with all his passion, to overwhelm him with his powerful, erect cock. “Then fuck me.”

A rolled condom, a dollop of thick lube, and Joker’s coated fingers circled around Ren’s opening, sometimes with almost floating touches, sometimes like a strong massage, inciting a leak of pre-come, a string of loud moans.

“Don’t hold your breath,” Joker whispered, lips almost kissing Ren’s ear. “Relax. I’ll make it good, make you come so hard...”

Ren didn’t need his advice to surrender to bliss — every breath spread fire in his veins, every caress made him rock his hips, every word instilling the yearning for deeper contact. And on the emptied tier, the painting of Yusuke and him, or maybe Fox and Joker, with loosened kimonos and exposed legs, sparked wishes of entwined hands, shared fantasies, and sweltering nights.

Love.

And as Joker’s finger entered him, his other hand fondling his cock, Ren thought of nothing except love: for him, for Yusuke, for the way his body cried for more when Joker hit the right spot — delicate, sensitive, yet infused with the power to make Ren float, drown, melt under skillful touches.

Water ripples, thundering heartbeats, Joker’s breathy comments about how sweet and sexy he was — a more erotic music than any mellow tune Ren had heard before. Fitting for the clutching along his shaft, the spasms in his insides — lingering after Joker left him, so potent they were.

“Fuck, Ren, I want you so much... ” he said between heavy gasps, sweat mixing with water. “Let me in...”

“All yours.”

The pain Ren expected never came; instead, came the sensation of being stretched and filled, not just by Joker’s cock, but also his might, his devotion. With every thrust, no matter how slow, Ren’s eyes brimmed with delight; his heart, with ardor. When Joker sped up, holding him by the waist, every part of his body fluttered in pleasure, prostate pulsing at every turn.

Their mutual screams, their meeting of skins, their ruddied cheeks, all blended together in absolute ecstasy, the feeling of being loved made physical. As Ren’s arms trembled and his breath hastened, Joker held him in an embrace so strong that their bodies could merge.

And for a moment between a sudden head turn and a ravenous kiss, they did.

Streams of Ren’s white-hot come hit the nearby floor, but the bursts and flashes still consumed him, even after Joker’s hold weakened, tongue leaving his mouth.

“I’ll bring some wipes.” Joker tied off his condom. “Will be quick.”

Wouldn’t they be inside the box? When he stepped out of the tub, legs still shaking, Ren took off the middle tier, only to find nothing in the bottom one, except for another painting, this time of Yusuke and him nude in a post-coital embrace, with kimonos as blankets, and Fox and Joker, wearing only their masks, watching over them.

Courtship? Torrid affair! But why would the paintings be about him and Yusuke, instead of their inner selves? Would Fox believe a direct approach was uncouth?

Two silver kanji in the corner, and Ren got his answer: Yusuke was the artist. Joker only told that Fox gave him the box, not that it was a gift. Of course he would be so sure about Yusuke, of course he would show off the box — it was the proof!

Yusuke… How long did he keep his infatuation secret? Holding the tier against his heart, Ren swore that it wouldn’t matter anymore, that as soon as their next meeting he would confess his love. Screw the rotten outside world, Ren Amamiya would go after whoever he liked!

“So you get it now.” Joker offered him a wipe, then soaked himself, water reaching his chin. “It’s a gift to you.”

After cleaning his mess, Ren also sat down, stacking a hand over Joker’s, head resting on his shoulder. “Isn’t there a way to deliver it to me when I wake up, like the calling card?”

“That’s on Yusuke. He made it; he decides if it goes outside or not.”

On any other occasion, Ren would harangue Joker about money and luxuries, about how unfair it was that he had to survive on bread and curry while truffles abounded in his dreams. But the liquid kiss of warm water, the deep softness of Joker’s voice, no matter if they were in a different place, were all real.

Just like Yusuke’s feelings for him.

“About our courtship.” Joker turned around, draping himself over Ren. “We agreed to become exclusive only after you two admitted your crush to each other, so we don't end up pressuring you to rush things. Neither of us wanted to keep it a secret forever, you know...”

“How long have you been dating, though?” Ren said, hugging Joker and leaving a kiss on his nose. Why fixate on chocolate when his answer surpassed it in sweetness? When under a leather coat and a sharp mask lay a kind, selfless soul, one that offered his kindness even to himself?

“Since Yusuke discovered his Den, around his last birthday, and I started visiting Fox.” He returned the kiss, this time on Ren’s cheek. “But Yusuke’s feelings, your feelings... You already know the answer.”

“Yes!” Once again Ren’s heart palpitated — not with the crushing intensity of an orgasm, but the gentle waves of happiness. With the acceptance of his own truths making his desire clear.

And in front of his eyes, a lotus colored itself blue.


	8. The Fox’s Dwelling, Part 1

_The heavy rainstorm heralded Akira’s tears. Was he fated to bear the burdens of humanity?_ _Was he destined to die alone?_

A slow day meant Ren could write in his journal, long neglected by work and study. Yet unlike in his story, the rain made a fresh backdrop to the warm lighting and the soft bedding, filling him with serenity. Udon would be a great compliment, but a glance at his phone reminded him to pack his clothes, or else he would meet the cold sink again. Dinner could wait.

Bag on his shoulders, umbrella in hand, and Ren opened the front door, eager for a soak in the bathhouse. Perhaps he would end up too relaxed and sleepy to cook, but reheating curry leftovers would solve the problem. But as he locked Leblanc, a rich voice took him away from his pondering.

“I have wonderful news!”

Not even three days had passed, but Yusuke stood proud with his starry umbrella and a glowing grin. Another grand prize? A guest spot at an art exhibit? Something with Haru? No matter the reason, it was more important than a new watercolor palette.

“Didn’t expect you so soon,” Ren said. But even if it was something mundane, Yusuke’s excitement would erase all banality of it. “No problem. You have clean clothes with you, right?”

A hum of approval, and the two found themselves between plastic stools and shampoo bottles, naked except for towels on their laps. Eight months since the last time they bathed together, and Yusuke hadn’t changed much, despite the hair: the long face, the angular shoulders, the rounded hips, all the same. 

“You see, I submitted a painting to a contest months ago...”

“Congratulations!” No need to listen to the rest — of course Yusuke won, he always did, his technique the only feature worth saving from his bleak past. But something had indeed changed, yet Ren couldn’t point out what. Posture? Demeanor?

“Thanks.” Yusuke poured water on his legs, the running soapsuds accentuating the elegance of his thighs, the shape of his calves. “But my victory is not what I deemed to tell you.”

Perhaps what did change was Ren’s eyes. “Then what is it?”

“The prize.” Yusuke stretched his arms, exposing himself to the damp air. “I will elaborate after we get in the bath.”

No more visible bones in the middle of his chest; same for his forearms. Slender as always, but lithe instead of frail, with an added softness which invited Ren to grab it, touch it.

Instinct surpassed his aloofness, impulses escaping into words. “Can I wash your b—”

“Something wrong?” Yusuke said, leaning forward, skin flushed from the steam. “I could not hear what you said.”

“You’ve… grown up a lot.” No. Wrong. Ren wouldn’t step back after his slip-up. He wanted it, he meant it, and there was nothing creepy about his request. “Sorry; can I wash your back?”

A soft chuckle, and Yusuke handed him a washcloth. “As you wish.”

Ren picked up his own stool, then sat behind him, rubbing the soapy cloth over his back with brisk, but gentle motions. Despite the whiff of glycerin, traces of Yusuke’s natural scent permeated Ren’s nose, meandering between frosty and balmy, distant and intimate.

“No one has washed me with such care, as far as I remember.”

Did Ren’s hands rest for too long on Yusuke’s hips, or did his fingers linger too much on his supple, delicate skin? No — they were in a bathhouse, not a motel! Yet chances were Yusuke was deprived of tenderness since youth, having to learn how to relax by himself.

Like Ren.

“Then I’ll wash you whenever you want. Just ask.” Ren circled his arms around Yusuke’s chest, using his back as a pillow, washcloth hitting the floor. Two young men, seeking solace from abandonment and solitude, finding light and love within each other.

What Ren wanted most. What Ren needed to tell Yusuke the most.

“As long as you let me wash you in return,” Yusuke said, soft voice echoing powdery snow. “And you do not fall asleep on me.”

“Another day.” Ren returned to his own showerhead, giving himself a final rinse. “I’m curious about what you got.”

It took them no time to submerge their bodies in the bath, hot water loosening up their muscles, swaying them into a drowsy mood. The silence and emptiness of the room added to its secluded aura, tempting Ren to surprise Yusuke with a kiss. But no ambushes — too uncouth an approach, and Yusuke would return to his imperious, cutting self.

“My prize is a trip to Fukuoka, to watch the wisteria trees in full bloom. I was also offered a stay in a gorgeous inn, with exquisite views and renowned food.” Yusuke’s gaze sparkled like the constellations in his umbrella, his grin wide and bright. “And lest I forget: it is a trip for two.”

Dignified, aesthetic, lavish — all the qualities Yusuke held dearest. Ren’s heart raced as snapshots of the two in kimono, drinking tea against a purple background, or lazing on a boat surrounded by greenery, arose in his thoughts. “Sounds amazing.”

“Certainly. Since it will last from Thursday to Sunday of the Golden Week, there will be enough time to immerse in all the beauty without academic worries.” The grin gave way to Yusuke’s serene closed-eyed smile, rosy cheeks set against the deep blue of his hair. “And judging by your gracious words in our last meeting, I believe you will enjoy accompanying me. I would feel ecstatic by your presence.”

“First I’ll need to ask Boss if I’ll get those days off,” Ren said, submerged fingers veering closer and closer to Yusuke’s hand. “I would love it, though.”

“Please give me an answer as soon as possible!” Yusuke held both Ren’s hands by impulse, eyebrows high. “To spend a holiday reveling in luxury would already be miraculous, but with you as company? There is no higher joy than sharing such indulgences with a...” His gaze shifted to the floor tiles. “...special friend.”

“A boyfriend, Yusuke.”

If Ren couldn’t lay his cards on the table in that moment, he might as well have declined Yusuke’s offer. Even if Joker and Fox were wrong, even if Yusuke meant it literally, the idea of keeping his feelings chained pierced him with agony.

“I want to be your boyfriend.”

Yusuke tightened the hold on Ren’s hands, the rubor on his cheeks spreading to his face, neck, shoulders. His eyes twitched, his breathing quickened, his chin trembled. “Me, a humble artist? Of all people?”

“Yes.” Warmth and pain, both from Yusuke’s powerful fingers and endearing vulnerability — the reasons for Ren to fall in love. “Of all people, you’re the one who brings me peace. Gives me comfort to be myself. Shows me the pleasure of a still-beautiful world, the pleasure of your lovely body, your refined soul. So, Yusuke, will you…?”

The tears that refused to fall in their last evening rolled down Yusuke’s face like melted ice, gleaming as starlight. “There is a ceiling above this bath, so this is not a dream… Th— This is real! Ren Amamiya, my… boyfriend? Yes, I surely will!”

Inside Ren’s soul a door unlocked, setting free a joy strong enough to overpower Yusuke’s grip, urging him to enclose his arms around his torso. Foreheads bumped into each other, and a faint aroma of spearmint came from Yusuke’s breath, tempting Ren to taste his mouth. “You’re way more than an artist, my Yusuke. My light.”

“My Ren...” Yusuke leaned closer, but a splash of water sharpened his expression into a blade, voice low and firm. “We have company. Behind you.”

A glance over the shoulder, and there he was: the masochistic old man, meddling with the hot water faucet again. One day he’d get cooked alive and no one except him would be to blame. Would serve him right for ruining the moment. “One thing.” Ren slid to the other side of the bath, struggling to hide his scowl. “Did you have dinner? I’m in a mood for udon; want some?”

Yusuke sat up straight, taking off the small towel from the top of his head. “Not yet; I do accept!”

Back in Leblanc, with an apron tied around his waist, Ren took eggs, spinach, and scallions from the fridge, together with fishcake, noodles and a bottle of his homemade dashi — the last one. “Damn, I’ll need to go to the market tomorrow, or else...”

“If my presence is causing you trouble,” Yusuke said, perched on a stool. “Do not feel pressured to cook for me; I have food back in my dorm.”

“I would need to go there anyway, don’t worry.” What else to take? Oh yes, sugar and soy sauce from the cupboard, then… “Hey, just found a pack of abura-age. Do you want kitsune udon?”

The barrage of fox shout-outs didn’t stop Yusuke from framing Ren with his fingers. “No matter the dish, I will accept, as long as you are the one preparing it. But if you need my opinion, I prefer tanuki udon.”

“Tough luck, I don’t have tempura flakes.” Ren propped his elbows on the counter, putting his face in the middle of Yusuke’s frame. “I’ll have them next time, I promise.”

“You don’t have to! If only I could repay your generosity...”

“But I want to!” Not just for the next time, but for every occasion Yusuke could partake of his cooking. Work, expenses, all paled in comparison to the happiness in Ren’s heart. As for repaying the generosity, no, payment had nothing to do with that. What Ren needed was the voluntary offer to help, the proof that at least one person recognized his efforts.

That one person wanted to be part of his life.

“Well, you could chop the vegetables and prepare an omelette, it would help a lot,” Ren said, taking off his glasses. “But I want to kiss my boyfriend first.”

A faint blush returned to Yusuke’s cheeks as he looked from side to side, then leaned his head forward, eyes closed, shoulders trembling. “Yes, please...”

Ren passed his fingers through his hair, from the bangs to the nape of his neck, then pressed his lips against Yusuke’s, light and soft, staying still, giving him space to feel, taste, savour his mouth. Instead, Yusuke kissed him back, ending in a pop, leaving the two gazing at each other, lashes heavy, breaths deep.

So chaste, so tender, yet enough to transport Ren to the near future, with strolls on the beach and quiet dinners at the inn. But the future would come no matter what; his pounding heart, however, couldn’t wait. “Again?”

Yusuke nodded, and they kissed once more, losing themselves in coffee and mint, darkness and ice. And the deeper Ren dove, reveling in the silkiness of his lips and the roughness of his tongue, the more Yusuke yielded to Ren, tilting his head, uttering soft hums, letting his arms be held by eager hands.

Fierce in battle, gentle in romance — such dichotomy teased Ren to go beyond Yusuke’s mouth, to leave a trail of kisses on his neck, to test the boundaries of his V-neck shirt. Would he stay composed and elegant with his shirt hiked up, or would he become a stuttering mess after a few more touches?

All enticing, all delectable… Yet Ren’s stomach panged, breath coming short, forcing him to set himself free, putting his glasses back on. “Okay, dinner time,” he said, running fingers through Yusuke’s bangs.

With Yusuke’s help, they spent no time making dinner, even with the extra work of scalding and seasoning the abura-age. Steaming bowls of udon fogged Ren’s lenses as he served them on the counter, their mild scent bringing smiles to both young men.

Smooth, chewy, with the freshness of the scallions and the sweetness of the sliced omelettes balancing each other, the seasoned tofu lending more flavor without overpowering the noodles — his best work by far, Kitchen Lab dishes included. A simple recipe and ordinary ingredients, refined together into edible coziness, like a warm home and tight hugs.

“Delightful. Any other compliment will not suffice.” Yusuke laid his used spoon inside an empty bowl. “Could you pass me your recipe, please?”

“Got it on the internet. I’ll send you the link later.”

As Yusuke waxed lyrical about colors in both food and art, Ren washed the dishes, paying too much attention to the soothing musicality of his voice to understand the finer details. No help needed — why break the flow? Besides, Yusuke surpassed him in terms of hard work; no harm in letting him rest.

“...ultramarine and gold have been used for centuries to convey majesty, mundane and divine. Violet would enhance it, but a viable pigment was only synthesized less than two hundred years ago, plus, the opulence of ultramarine comes from being made of ground — oh! Before I forget,” Yusuke pulled out his cellphone, showing the screen to Ren. “Have a look. Unfinished, I know, but I want to hear your opinion.”

A sky before sunrise, devoid of stars, deep blue with a thin orange line in the horizon, and a male figure rising up from the bottom of the canvas, extending a hand to the viewer, coated in black and gold. His head was left unpainted, but the pencil sketch featured an open smile and wavy hair.

“Bright,” Ren said. Blue and gold, like Madarame’s Palace. Black clothes and a curly mop, like himself. Yusuke’s old pledge of painting his smile, the testament of his gratefulness, manifested. “Like daybreak, but quicker. Assertive.”

“Indeed. I will name it _Akira_ , in katakana, since choosing a specific kanji would cheapen its symbolism.” Yusuke locked his phone screen, gazing at Ren with the eyes of a dreamer. “If you travel with me, I intend on finishing the painting there, if you do not mind keeping a smile for some hours.”

Ren closed the cabinet door, his work finished. “I’ll smile for you no matter what. It’s hard not to.” He left the kitchen, hugging Yusuke from behind, kissing the top of his head. “And I’ll follow you even if I have to skip work.”

“Please do not get yourself in trouble for me.”

“If I didn’t, we wouldn’t be here.”

Yusuke’s phone buzzed, reminding him to go back to his dorm. Standing up, he retrieved his umbrella, only for Ren to tug on the collar of his jacket.

“Come on, it’s not that late,” he said, dreading the days he would bathe alone. How many hours in a week? Too many. How many stations from Yongen-Jaya to Ueno? Too freaking many. Text messages? Not enough.

“I plan to finish some sketches for Haru before the holidays. Rest assured that I will keep in contact.” Bag on shoulders, umbrella open, and Yusuke made a small bow outside the Leblanc door. “Thank you for the fantastic dinner.”

Extra money for the trip if she approved the designs. Or something like that — who knew how art commissions worked. Nothing to argue against. “Can I follow you to the station?”

“I must decline,” Yusuke said, ruffling Ren’s hair. “Or else I would miss all the trains, distracted by your presence. In fact, you became more beautiful, more expressive, after your return. Like you’re blooming.”

“Oh, well… thanks.” A corny lotus pun from everyone else, but deep, genuine poetry from him. His boyfriend. “Just one thing.”

Before Yusuke spoke any words, Ren cupped his cheeks, giving him a long, gentle kiss, mouth closed, an _I’ll miss you_ without words. “Done. Good night!”

No tight embraces or needy makeouts in return; instead, a peck on Ren’s fingers. “May you have sweet dreams tonight.”

And with every step, Yusuke’s silhouette blended with the rain.

The evening went by in a haze, with a napping Morgana, the worn comfort of Ren’s pajamas, and his journal open again. The tragedy outlined months ago, when viewed under a new angle, turned pointless, immature. Without a change of tone, unsalvageable.

_Yugo’s sudden visit and his rejection of Akira’s plans proved him wrong. Saving the world was still Akira’s destiny; to become a sacrifice, forbidden to partake on the joy of humanity, wasn’t._

Much better. Leaving the journal on the workbench, Ren went to bed, Yusuke’s farewell in a constant loop. Sweet dreams, sweet dreams… how could they find each other inside them?

The encroaching drowsiness forbade him from searching for a method, pulling him away from cotton sheets to checkered marble and glossy wood. On the console table, red orchids and silver-framed photos. An alabaster statue in the corner, near the double entrance door.

All against his faded pajamas.

“Let’s get the car; we’ll go outside,” Joker said, high on his thief heels, handing Ren a traditional envelope with an ornate blue bow. “It has been a while since the last invitation.”

In black ink, _Yusuke Kitagawa._ An invitation — there was his answer! What for? Walks in the garden, moonlit banquets? “Can I change? I doubt this is for a sleepover.”

Gloved hands lifted Ren’s chin, allowing Joker to kiss him. “No need to. Where we’ll go, we don’t decide what to wear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some little things: "Yugo" is Yusuke's beta name, as seen on many datamines, and Fukuoka really has a ton of pretty wisteria trees that are in bloom in late April / early May!
> 
> Also, kitsune udon is bloody delicious and I miss it a ton!


	9. The Fox’s Dwelling, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has some Japanese words - mostly food and clothing. Hope it doesn't get difficult to read!

_Ren, Joker:_

_A magnificent phenomenon is happening in our humble abode. Please pay us a visit as soon as possible — Fox and I have no idea if it will recur._

_With love,_

_Yusuke_

The elevator took an eternity to reach the ground floor, leaving Ren with too much time to read and reread the invitation. Simple, short — a lie? Was the “phenomenon” an excuse for a visit to seal Joker and Fox’s relationship with a night of passion between the four of them? Not that he would complain about it. On the other hand… Yusuke wasn’t fond of subterfuge; he told the truth.

“Any idea of what it could be?” he said, hugging himself. Since when was his Den so chilly? Did it work like a funhouse mirror of the real world weather, making it stronger?

“Something about you.” Joker took off his coat, draping it over Ren’s shoulders as the elevator doors opened. “Lotuses breaking through the frozen lake or the plum blossoms dyeing themselves red. Like Yusuke and this cold.”

Instead of Mona in van form, he found a modern red sports car, its roof down, leather seating on full display. A vehicle to flaunt, not hide, money. To let his hair blow in the wind, to break free from his worries amidst dazzling landscapes and captivating music. His kind of car.

“Beautiful, right? Yours.” After opening the car doors with the press of a button, Joker threw the keys to Ren. “You drive, I’ll give you directions. Easier than driving the Mona Bus, trust me.”

Was that so? Putting on the coat, Ren sat in the driver’s seat, refusing to turn down a challenge. As he turned on the car with Joker at his side, the throb of the engine mixing with the jazz on the radio, he forgot the numbing cold on his bare feet, smirk widening.

Empty streets, poor lighting, old buildings, the red moon watching over them in both sky and lyrics: the setting of a vintage book, a thief’s paradise. No open doors or lit signs, headlights shining beacons in the sea of black. The car floated on the asphalt, in stark difference to the roaring tunnels and bumpy roads in Mementos.

“This place is bigger than I expected...” Ren said, focus split between driving and Joker’s hand on his thigh. “What happens if we get inside any of those buildings?”

“Nothing, they’re like film sets. Just there to look good. Now, turn left.”

Dive bars and nightclubs gave way to banks and libraries, and a blue light shone through the open doors of a museum. The cold worsened, forcing Joker to raise the car roof. “It’s here, stop,” he said.

Leaving the parked car, Ren clasped Joker’s arm, climbing up each step with materialized boots. Icy swirls disintegrated their clothing, urging Ren, with chattering teeth and shaking legs, to cling onto Joker, bare except for his mask.

“This is Yusuke’s desire surpassing yours. Will go away when we get inside, unless he wants us to walk naked in the snow.” Joker held Ren against him, kissing his trembling lips. “And it snows there all the time. Even the sky is white.”

They jumped inside the door, falling down into snow flurries enveloping their bodies not with deadly cold, but smooth silk, warming them up until consciousness returned.

Stone steps again. Imposing pine trees breaking the paleness of the ground. From afar, a traditional mansion with extensive gardens. On Ren’s body, kimono and haori in black and red layers.

“Look up,” Joker said, his sleeves hanging. “Incredible...”

Stars, numerous and bright, painting the night blue with their powerful glow. Meteor showers, distant nebulas, colorful northern lights; the beauty of the universe, all in the same sky.

“So it started in the planetarium, then...” Ren said. Yusuke’s passionate fire spread through the boat on the frozen lake, the curved bridge, the maple leaves, shining brightest inside the red lotus lanterns leading the way to the entrance, where Fox awaited them with a plum blossom-embroidered kimono and his dangling tail.

“Welcome. Please partake in this night of pleasure we prepared.” Fox pulled up his mask, bowing. “Yusuke is awaiting you on the veranda. Follow me.”

Sandals off, and Ren went deep into a colorful utopia of painted sliding doors and porcelain dishes, flowery umbrellas and fans. The _Sayuri_ and an arrangement of black lilies in the alcove, a procession of folding screens, calligraphy scrolls, and wall hangings afterwards. Each brush stroke displayed the freedom and joy of Yusuke’s soul, imprinting on him the depths of his passion.

On the veranda, however, colors clustered around the constellations, dragons, and flowers of Yusuke’s outer kimono, feminine long sleeves trailing on the floor as he sipped tea, its steam forming an ethereal cloud around him.

“Yusuke, I... ” Comparisons to woodblock prints would be damning with faint praise — the sophistication, the opulence, were not just art, but symbols of Yusuke’s growth from a wavering boy to a spirited man. “This is… No, you’re amazing.”

“Thank you. But the one responsible for the _pièce de résistance_ , the reason for this modest celebration,” Yusuke said, waving his arm towards the sky, “is you.”

“Then what about this?” Ren sat down at his side, tasting the tea on his tongue, mild and toasty, steamy breath filling Ren with heat. A whiff of pine and bamboo rose into the air as Yusuke raised his sleeves, pulling Ren closer by the sides of his haori.

An ideal opening for Ren to tug at Yusuke’s collar, spreading kisses over his face, light and quick. Hums escaped from Yusuke’s throat, warm blood washing his cheeks pink.

“...Ren!”

“I want to try your tea, too,” Joker said, sitting in front of them, pressing a fingertip to Yusuke’s mouth. “Can I?”

Amidst puffs and gasps, Yusuke said yes, letting go of Ren’s waist to grab onto Joker’s arm, losing balance as his mouth dominated his own, falling down when Ren sucked between his neck and his jaw.

Not even breaking free from their kisses made Yusuke recover his poise, rubor spreading from head to shoulders, framed both by the open furisode and a loose indigo kimono, collarbones exposed, eyes darkened.

A breathtaking sight; would it take much for him to moan? To make him melt at his hands? As echoes of romantic tanka passed through his imagination, Ren climbed over Yusuke, cupping his cheeks. “Delicious.”

“I agree. Aromatic, with a little spice from his pretty tongue.” Joker pulled Ren up by the waist to lay a kiss, the tip of the mask scratching his nose. “But I can’t get over my coffee addiction.”

Yusuke regained his strength, sitting with stretched legs under Ren’s hips, covering him with kisses, from forehead to chin, jaw to neck. “Neither can I,” Yusuke said, circling Ren’s shoulders. “Especially when today’s blend is so luscious and sweet.”

Cold night, what cold night? Locked inside their arms, warmth spread over Ren, every kiss sending him sparks, every brush softening his limbs, swaying hips lending more carnality to their cuddling — pure delight.

“Excuse me.” Fox raised his mask, looking down his nose. “While I understand your enthusiasm in showering our wards with affection, Joker, I also wish for reciprocation.”

“Join us, then.” Leaving Ren’s back free, Joker scurried behind Yusuke, hugging his chest. “You know we’ll pay you back with interest.”

“I expect that you will honor your word,” Fox said, a smile appearing on his face as he sat behind Ren. “Yet I am not in the mood for quick, desperate intimacy today.”

“Slow is good, too.” With Yusuke too distracted with Joker’s caresses, Ren rested on Fox’s chest, haori sleeves sliding down his elbows. Three lovers — not scantily-clad people stroking his ego; _lovers_. Giving Ren love, taking Ren’s love, melding their desires with his own.

Fox’s fingers passed through his hair, playing with his bangs. “Indeed,” he said, “a drafty veranda cannot compare to staying in an enclosed room, on a comfortable futon, disrobed and aroused, listening to tender moans while enclosed by the smoldering bodies of beautiful men.”

Skin, smooth skin, perfumed skin… Fox’s hands strayed no further, but phantom silk pooled on Ren’s feet, followed by imagined fingertips gliding over his legs, tongues reaching his inner thighs. Or would Yusuke lose himself by having his pert nipples sucked, wrists tied with Fox’s obi? Maybe Joker would swallow his bravado and let himself be taken? Perhaps…

“But that will be for later, for the table is already set for dinner. Come, all of you.”

“Yes, master,” Yusuke said. They set themselves free, passing through another pair of painted doors. Awaiting them, a large kotatsu, brimming with vegetables, mushrooms, tofu, and meat for the sukiyaki pot in the middle — reciprocation for the hot pot from almost two years ago. Damn, they didn’t need to do it, but… They had enough food to prepare a feast. That, alone, gave Ren a smile.

As the ingredients cooked, Yusuke sat on Fox’s lap, loose collar revealing his white inner kimono, like a courtesan, a young kabuki actor, a person in service of beauty. A work of art by himself, fit to be preserved in paintings, scrolls...

… and lacquer boxes. “Yusuke? I got your gift, thanks. Amazing work,” Ren said, hand splayed over Joker’s. “Wish I could take it with me in the morning.”

“Gift? Ah, the box.” Yusuke grabbed a long hashi to mix the dish, but Fox stopped him with a kiss on his wrist. “Consider it a promise; if I earn the chance to learn traditional lacquerware techniques at college, I will make you a new one in the daytime.”

“I can replicate it as long as I retrieve the original.” Whispering, Fox hugged Yusuke, laying another kiss on his forehead. “So you should not fret about your work disappearing from Ren’s dreams; he can have both.”

“A mere reproduction would not suffice. Without days spent on every painting and the danger of handling poisonous wet lacquer, it will have no value but as frivolous decoration.”

Fox’s voice hardened, arms still around Yusuke. “The line between reproduction and copy is blurred in our circumstances. But cease equating suffering with worth; your life as an artist, as a man, must break free from the stereotype.”

The aroma of softened vegetables and cooked mushrooms overpowered Ren’s nostrils, stomach fluttering in return, but the broth started to evaporate. “Joker, mix the food”, he said, leaving the cozy kotatsu to reach the stove knobs amidst a debate about deep emotions and authentic depictions — not worth a burnt dinner.

“Done.” With the heat set low and Joker’s help, he saved the broth from turning into sticky, dried gravy. “Calm down, Yusuke, I just wanted to keep the box after waking up. Whatever you do; I’ll be happy.”

“Again I lost sight of reality.” Yusuke left Fox’s arms, picking up a ceramic bottle. “Thank you for grounding me back. I shall provide you a copy, as you wish.”

Yusuke poured sake and arranged the bowls with fanning scallions and rows of tofu, containing the meat in the middle. “And do not fret about asking me anything,” he said. “You have heard Fox; worth does not lie in suffering, and you have already faced too much agony. I wish I would have noticed it, then comforted you sooner.”

Mushrooms melted on Ren’s tongue, seasoned fish cakes slid down his throat. “Can I… drop the strong leader act, at least between us two? I don’t mind you or everyone looking up to me, but… it can be so lonely.”

Words rolled off of his tongue without sake, shudders, or tears. Simple, quick, no harder than tossing his bag on the bed. Yet the weight his soul carried was much heavier, and he took it off without effort, helped by Yusuke’s lead. And filling the void of the iron chains of stoicism, the snug grip of Joker’s arms on his chest, lips meeting with his own.

“Dropping the leader act, maybe, but right now you’re the strongest you’ve ever been.” Joker released Ren, then sipped sake with polished movements, resembling more a worldly gentleman visiting Japan than a guy who spent all his life there. “Strong and sensitive.”

“My vow of supporting you never wavered; never will. However, you gave the impression of refusing it outside battle, so I concluded that giving you space was the wisest course,” Yusuke said, bringing into his mouth a morsel of meat. “Yet I couldn’t help but notice the melancholy behind your retorts and jokes, the wistfulness that I believed was a product of my sentimental delusions. Until Fox informed me I perceived the truth.”

“I only felt safe enough to talk about this side of me not too long ago.” Ripples of love, waves of comfort. Ah, Yusuke had no idea of how much he soothed his heart! “First to Joker, then to you.”

“All beings have their time to bloom, and you are not an exception. To disrespect one’s natural growth brings only frustration.” Fox drank from his miso bowl, salty steam inundating his nose. “Unlike food. Waiting for it to go cold is a waste.”

Shungiku leaves and udon swirled with tales of cooking lessons and painting fans, open-air baths and improvised theatricals, ice sculptures and impromptu dances. Sake loosened tongues and flushed cheeks, bringing with them stories about silk rope and foxtails, full-body massages and erotic poetry. If not for time, money, and the pressure to make himself “useful” to society, Ren would pursue that life without hesitation.

If only he could live that life outside dreaming, at least for some days, without sacrificing body and mind for short-lived peace...

_Oh._

“About the trip, I’ll get an answer from Sojiro tomorrow.” Ren put his empty bowl away, smirk broadening as his eyebrows sharpened. “But I don’t have a kimono.”

Yusuke threw himself over Ren, sake-infused breath flooding their surroundings. “Then go naked,” he said, words slurry. “You are so gorgeous, a fine exemplar of sensual, youthful masculinity. I never want to lose sight of it...”

“Fine. Inside our room.” On one hand, the smell of alcohol; on the other hand, the eloquence. Cunning, cunning Yusuke, taking advantage of drinking to deliver more outrageous comments than usual, pretending to be drunker than he was. Yet no matter how much trickery he employed, in the end he failed to conceal his cuddly, faithful nature, resting his head on Ren’s lap. “And you better undress too.”

“I insist in wanting you to know the experience of baring it all, to allow yourself to be admired and fondled with ease. Few pleasures compare.”

“Agreed.” Ren ruffled his hair, shuddering as the sake sent tingles to his body, adding to the warmth of the kotatsu and his too-heavy, too-restricting kimono. Why fabric, when he could have hands and fingers, lips and tongues, covering his skin? “That’s why we should do it both.”

“And you soon will be free to indulge your impulses with us.” Summoning icy swirls, Fox cleaned the table, leaving a new tea set emanating a whiff of jasmine and steamed leaves. “But I suppose this is the time to seal our commitment. Yusuke, please come here and serve our guests.”

With a _yes, master_ , Yusuke poured tea without spilling a drop outside the cups, hands steady, kettle firm. Tipsiness, what tipsiness? His voice had already returned to its usual tone! Yet as Ren sipped on his tea while Joker leaned on his arm with closed eyes and slow sighs, Fox’s remark dictated his thoughts.

“Seal our commitment? Is this a wedding?”

“No, this is Fox being Fox,” Joker said, nuzzling into black silk. “He once made platters of sushi just for watching the plum trees bloom. Feasts are a given here.”

Fox stood up, tapping his cup on the table. “A wedding? Not at all. Such a ceremony deserves more than a humble dinner. This, Ren,” he said, extending his arms towards the flowers and birds of the doors, “is a small gathering to celebrate the affection between Yusuke and you, Joker and I. And more will come, since after a confession, our agreement means all four of us may take part in shared amusements and trysts, in exchange for exclusivity.”

Joker freed Ren’s arm, then clung to Fox’s shoulders from behind, lips brushing against his ear. “Big words for letting me stay for breakfast. Do I get a toothbrush? A futon?”

“How thoughtful of you to remember. Yes, I have arranged the bedroom for today. I can show it, if everyone is ready.”

Finishing his tea, Yusuke left the table, kneeling at Fox’s feet. “Is this the time for...”

“Indeed.”

The next sliding doors revealed a room lit by few lanterns, eclipsed by the starlight passing through the raised shoji panels. As Ren walked further, heart pulsing deeper with each plum blossom brought inside by the wind, he held Yusuke’s hand, with parted lips and a wide gaze. Folding screens enclosed futons and pillows, covered with peony petals — the most intimate part of his soul taken form. Just standing there was worth more than any box.

“Now, Yusuke,” Fox said, stepping on the futon. “Come.”

Bare feet shuffled from tatami to cotton, stopping in front of Fox. Relaxing his arms, Yusuke let Fox grab his furisode by the collar, sliding it from neck to shoulders, elbows to wrists, chest to waist, until a waterfall of silk added a colorful, patterned layer to the soft blankets.

“Are you comfortable with displaying more of your beauty? Entrancing our guests with your snowy skin, your tempting hips?”

Yusuke nodded, his blushing subtle under dim lighting. “Yes, master, please.”

Fox’s fingers glided over his obi, undoing its knot. Watching Yusuke naked was nothing new, but what had begun as taking notice of his thinness, evolved to appreciating the length of his limbs, the curve of his waist, the shine of his eyes.

And would end with Ren cherishing his wet lips, his heaving chest, his tight rear — all of him, not just as the Artist, the Teammate or the Friend, but as the Man.

Scratch that — visual delights wouldn’t satisfy him, for his nascent erection begged for sighs and grunts, musk and sweat. Pulling away his socks, Ren stood in front of Joker, haori hitting the floor. “Do the same,” he said, winking. “And don’t use your dark magic.”

“Here?” Joker kissed the nape of his neck, tugging on his obi knot. “Not even if I wanted.”

“There is absolutely no need to imitate us,” Yusuke said, cotton peeking through the hanging sides of his open kimono. “Allow me to arouse you, please...”

Ren’s obi fell, silk layers bursting open. “Keep going. I want to arouse you too, make you feel like I’m feeling right now. Damn, you’re so hot...”

“And you too.” Joker shed his layers one by one, rubbing Ren’s chest, waist, hips, fingers lingering more the less he wore, pinching his nipples, squeezing his buttocks. Meanwhile, Fox’s hands restricted themselves to fabric, yet he praised Yusuke’s deep gasps, his fluttering lashes, his intoxicating plum scent. Soon Ren mirrored Yusuke’s sighs, longer as Joker nibbled his neck and untied his inner kimono; stronger when Fox took Yusuke’s away.

“No underwear?” Fox grazed his fingertips along Yusuke’s bare hips, smoothing a striped ribbon tied around his left thigh. “Excellent. You shall be rewarded in our next meeting.”

Heavy-lidded eyes, a beguiling smile, hard nipples the color of his blushing, and a dense trail of blue hair leading down to his half-hard cock. His big cock, caressed by the night breeze, free to give Yusuke delicious orgasms. Unlike Ren’s — damned fundoshi, too small for his own growing erection, and Joker’s teasing made it even bigger!

Screw the dramatic undressing! Shaking his arms to set his sleeves free, then kicking his inner kimono, he searched for the tucked end of fabric with his fingers, only for Joker to grab his wrist the moment he found it.

“No, we’re going to do it until the end. If you told Yusuke you would make him hard, you better keep your word,” Joker said, free hand reaching under his fundoshi, fingers teasing his curls, never brushing the base of his shaft. “If you want relief, just ask.”

“Touch me.”

“Already doing that. Want me to touch elsewhere? Tell me.”

One more biting retort and the fundoshi would rip off, so hard he was. “Rub my cock, Joker.”

A peck on Ren’s cheek, and he released his wrist. “See? Easy.” And Joker grabbed his cock, pumping its shaft, ripping out a loud moan from his throat, then softer ones for each stroke, building up to trembling legs and rocking hips, the corded cloth adding friction to his aching entrance.

 _Do you like it, Yusuke? Do you like when I’m just like you, submissive and vulnerable, hard and moaning for everyone to see? That’s how I really am!_ And without his treasured Joker, who listened to all his secrets, dispelled all his fears, fulfilled all his wishes, Ren would have never mustered the willpower to accept that side of himself.

Between getting pampered by Joker and indulging Yusuke, Ren chose both, laying his lips on Joker’s, tongue swirling and dancing inside their mouths, trying to convey at least a little of his desire, his need.

In return, Joker untucked the fundoshi, cock popping out as fabric fell down to Ren’s ankles, the wintry chill grazing his balls. Following Ren’s moans, Yusuke knelt towards him, long fingers stroking his calves and thighs. His head, left untouched, throbbed at the heat of Yusuke’s tongue, its tip pressing against the slit, sending shivers all over him, thoughts melting into a frenzy.

Any screams got muffled by Fox’s assault on his mouth, deluging Ren with jasmine and plum, stealing all of his breath, not stopping until nibbling his lower lip. “Your tender voice and inflamed body stirs me with overpowering lust,” Fox said, lifting his chin. “How I ache to see if Joker trained you well, to use my length to ravish your tight entrance.”

Nothing existed except ardent touches and the fire in his veins. Ren’s legs floated, his heart raced, and his mind ran a loop of _so good, so good!_ Any more tongue swirls, silky hands, and beguiling suggestions, and he would climax — too soon! He craved to unleash his libido on Yusuke, stay on top of him, make him come by fondling all his sensitive spots. “I don’t… want to finish yet...”

“You heard him.” Joker let go of Ren’s cock, passing his fingers through Yusuke’s hair. “I know you’re proud of your skilled tongue, but let him breathe a little.”

When Yusuke obeyed, Ren knelt at his front, chest against chest, heartbeats in sync, overflowing with euphoria as he explored Yusuke’s smooth skin. Shoulders, chest, waist… all of his beloved, flushing and twitching by his hands. Lips met, tongues following the same rhythm of their rubbing cocks, lush and sinuous, blending tea and melted snow.

“Do as you wish, Ren...” Yusuke said.

Soon they collapsed, futon cushioning the fall, Yusuke raising and spreading his legs. Recovering his breath, Ren hovered over him, reveling in the rise and fall of his Adam’s apple, the veins of his wrists, the drop of pre-come hitting his abdomen. Without barriers, without aloofness — Yusuke at his most lovely, free for Ren to put his lips on a nipple, its taste hitting his tongue as he sucked it, deep hums a tender music to his ears.

A trail of kisses from chest to navel, a gentle hair tug in return, and he lost himself in the curls of Yusuke’s pubic hair, glossy and thick, distant traces of soap balancing his natural musk. Mild, balmy, yet bringing back the craving for heat, for intensity.

“You’re mine.” Ren sat on Yusuke’s hips, holding their cocks together, grinding with haste, the added friction from his fingers urging both to grasp for air. Desire and love, manifested in the lightness of his body, in Joker and Fox exchanging wet kisses and warm embraces under their discarded kimonos, in Yusuke’s raspy moans and squeezed eyes. “And I’ll make you happy.”

“But you already...” A louder moan interrupted Yusuke’s reply, and Ren let go of their cocks to hold his hands, dropping his weight on him, tongues meeting once again in a luscious kiss, deep as midnight, lighting the stars in their hearts. And as they resumed their rubbing, frantic and passionate, Fox held Ren’s back, forcing him to kneel upright, halting his grinding.

“Allow me to prepare you now.” 

_Excuse me?_ Getting lubed was fine. Getting interrupted within a hair’s breadth of coming, wasn’t. “What about Yusu—”

“Don’t worry,” Joker said, coming from a spread of crushed petals to cradle Yusuke’s head. “We won’t leave you two apart for too long.”

As Fox and Ren left him, Yusuke lowered his legs, then moved to all fours, sullen countenance away from Joker. “I certainly hope so.”

Under Fox’s suggestion, Ren mirrored Yusuke, close enough for their faces to brush, bangs to tangle, breath to mingle. After Fox’s fingers sank in an open pot over a lacquer tray, smearing its creamy, chilly lube on his entrance in light, precise strokes, like brush on a canvas, frustration vanished from Ren’s body, leaving only shivers and puffs.

He never left Yusuke — he was at his front and back at the same time, yielding and assertive, gentle and bold — and Yusuke never left him, trembling under Joker’s fingers, surrendering to Ren’s kiss, foreheads glued to each other.

When Fox slid a finger inside him, Ren thrust his hips, cock aching and throbbing again, dominated by the bliss of baring his soul and receiving acceptance and love not as the fearless, untouchable leader, but as a young man with a taste for tenderness, cherished and treasured by his lovers, and it made him happier than drawing blood or shooting bullets.

And nothing was wrong with that.

A duet of _yes, more, harder_ followed, as Yusuke also drowned in pleasure under Joker’s care, losing his balance, dropping head and chest on the futon, huffing and gasping before summoning all his strength to take a deep breath, raising his eyes.

“...so close!”

That was the signal for Joker to release Yusuke, cleaning his hand on one of the towels at the side of the lube pot, and for Fox to release Ren, repeating the gesture with another one.

“Lube yourself,” Joker said. “I already made him ready for you, but be gentle. Slow.”

Ren did as instructed, the cream thicker and colder without the scorching heat inside him. Hands wiped, he watched Yusuke turn around, then grabbed him by the waist, cock nudging into his open, slick entrance, the lube not preparing him for the pressure around his length, spreading to his entire body like a sweltering embrace — Yusuke’s way of acting on his urges even at his most passive. “... tight!”

“Deeper, please…” 

Soft, sweet, devoid of restraint and sharpness — how could Ren say no to such a voice, such a man? Passing his hands over Yusuke’s small, rounded rear, he ventured further, cock twitching more the deeper he went, until fitting it all, struggling to not drop his weight on Yusuke’s back, so intense were the spasms and blazes running under his skin.

But at the call of his name, in the middle of moans and yells, he thrust with slow, careful movements, lingering at Yusuke’s prostate, filling him with lust, increasing the pace as their shared screams echoed around the room.

“Now,” Fox said, fingers caressing Ren’s inner thighs. “Spread your legs.”

Draping over Yusuke, Ren exposed his entrance, letting Fox take him, squeezing his eyes shut from the stretching and a hint of pain — size mattered! — that disappeared when Fox’s cock entered in full, thrusts making his prostate flutter in ecstasy.

“Never could I imagine that your plush rear could sheath me so wonderfully...”

Ren looked over his shoulder, sending Fox a smirk. “Then keep going.”

“Not yet.” Joker knelt in front of Yusuke, raising his chin. “He has been screaming too much. Give me a moment to make his cute mouth busy. Fine for you, Yusuke?”

A muffled yes, Yusuke’s lips around Joker’s cock, and all four gave themselves to desire — thrusts stronger, moans higher. Fox massaged Ren’s nipples, Ren clutched Yusuke’s cock, Yusuke took Joker deep down his throat, then who did what stopped making sense, bodies working as one.

What mattered was the warmth of Yusuke’s skin against Ren’s own. The sweetness of Fox’s breath amid racy praises. Joker’s eyes, always the eyes, darkening with delight when Ren’s face burned brighter. The erotic, instinctive dance of his own pelvis, giving and receiving pleasure, throbbing and shaking between hard flesh and delicate walls.

And love, love for his truth, his vulnerability, his intimacy. Then more love, for his Yusuke, cherished as he deserved. For Fox, powerful and confident in luxury. For Joker, who healed his heart, freed his soul, cradled his cheeks...

“...give me a kiss, Ren, please…”

 _Of course!_ And when their lips met, equal yet different, recalling their first meeting at the guest bedroom, Ren again became darkness.

Not the pure darkness of their first time; the darkness of a winter night, Fox’s seed filling it with stars. A dream within a dream, sensitivity, romance. A satiated body, a joyous heart.

Bliss washed over Ren’s body at the same time that Yusuke came on his fingers, and not much later Joker shuddered and screamed, hips slowing down until leaving Yusuke’s mouth. Ice swirls created new towels, and all four wiped themselves, lying on a sea of colored silk.

So entangled they were, between forehead kisses and fingers through their bangs, that Ren forgot where he ended and the others started, until the chilly breeze awakened his sense of self, sending goosebumps across peeks of exposed skin — the air got colder by the second!

Breaking away from the others, Ren covered himself with the furisode, only for Yusuke to slide under it, constellations in his eyes, a warm home in his hug. And at their sides, Joker and Fox watched over them, masks back on their faces, whispering about their joy, their love.

A piece of heaven, before sleep welcomed him back to the void of unconsciousness.

Then buzzes and chimes in succession — _crap,_ did he sleep too much? Was he too late for college? Grabbing his phone, Yusuke’s name in the notifications erased his worries.

 **05:52 YUSUKE:** Good morning.

 **05:52 YUSUKE:** Last night, I had the most incredible dream.

 **05:53 YUSUKE:** Thank you. 💙

_I love you too, you early-riser dork._

**05:55 REN:** Same. Thank you too.

 **05:56 REN:** ❤️


	10. Study, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter justifies the Light Angst tag. Very much about talking about repressed pain and dealing with trauma, but if it's too much for you, here's the warning!

“Take off the apron, boy. I need you to go to the market.”

Sojiro’s spice order got delayed and the current stock would be out in a week. No problem! An earlier visit meant freedom from scavenging for decent produce hidden in the evening leftovers. Shopping list and Sojiro’s money in his pocket, Ren tapped on the booth Futaba sat in, smiling at the Kosei bow holding her ponytail together.

“Do I really need to go?” she said, face glued to her laptop. “Today? My only day without the club? Can’t we go on the weeken— No, wait!  _ Eternal Punishment Online  _ will have an event next Sunday!”

“Yeah, because you lost the bet. Turn it off.”

Curry spices, Futaba’s snack, the week’s groceries… One last thing, but what? No ingredients for college, no toiletries, no cat food. Ren tugged on a lock of hair, repeating the day’s schedule in his mind, until Futaba stood up, blue blazer and orange hair highlighting each other...

_ Yusuke’s answer! _ “Sojiro? What about Golden Week?”

Arms crossed, a chuckle, and the sharp glint of his eyes surpassed the reflection of his glasses. “Holidays will be off, but I won’t give you the entire week. Why?”

“I’m going on a trip, Thursday to Sunday.” Enough. He’d graduated high school. He was a man. Gone were the days of disclosing all the little details to the closest adult.

“Then you’ll be fine.” Sojiro leaned on the counter, his smirk fading under fatherly concern. “But if it’s about your parents, I’m always here to listen.”

“Nothing like that.” Ren put on his bag, calling to Futaba to follow him. His parents? Probably celebrating to hell and back that their useless burden of a son wasn’t taking up space anymore. Unlike Sojiro, who had the decency to ask.

...he cared. Sometimes too much, but he  _ cared. _

Ren would tell him the whole story another time. What was getting a boyfriend compared to plotting heists during open café hours, anyway? “Thanks. See ya.”

Chattering housewives, rowdy students — a far cry from the eerie emptiness of the market at night, the clanking of shopping carts its lone source of noise. Spices in the cart, and Ren strolled to the produce aisle, the rumbling of the crowd making Futaba grab onto his sleeve with trembling fingers.

“Do you want to get some snacks?” Ren’s plans of cutting time by asking Futaba to wander around gathering noodles and bread while he selected the freshest cabbages, ruined. Irrelevant, compared to ensuring her comfort. “Or maybe we should take a break and get a drink outside?”

“No, it’s fine... Let’s get the rest of your stuff until those people shut up, right?”

Rice, soy sauce, and tempura flakes, all sharing space with the other items in the cart. A pack of Apollo chocolate, and Ren just needed to pick up the vegetables to go home. Futaba let go of his arm, giving opinions on ramen brands and musing about her club activities.

“You know about the guy in the news who’s been suffering from delirium for weeks? Yeah, the staff deleted his digital records, or they’re encrypted as hell. We didn’t even get his name. The man is important.” A toothy grin and Sojiro’s glint — yeah, she got better.

“And why do you want to get his data?”

“The Alibaba Collective will sell it to the highest bidder and split the money to get new video cards. 3D rendering on the school computers is like trying to slay the Demon King with a bamboo sword!”

Damn, one Phantom Thief couldn’t put a life of crime in the past. Couldn’t she test the limits of her Den at night, instead of leaking medical records to upgrade computers that weren’t even hers? Yusuke’s graduation had an awful effect on her: she ran unchecked without him shooting down her outlandish ideas.

“What if it was your mother’s records?” Employing the nuclear approach left a bitter taste on Ren’s tongue, but instilling the fear of getting caught wouldn’t work. “Come, let’s get the produce.”

They chose the vegetables in silence, Futaba helping with the carrots and scallions, holding her head down. If she kept sulking after returning to Leblanc, Sojiro would grill him for every word they said, then leave him alone at work to scold Futaba at home. Lamenting the state of today’s youth with the old regulars? Not in Ren's plans.

“If your club needs money, make a gacha game.” Ren pushed the cart to the checkout line, stopping behind a short guy with the same jacket he’d bought in Harajuku, except black. “And if you hack anyway, keep the data to yourself.”

“I can’t ask Inari-senpai for art anymore, but I guess I can get help from the manga club.” She didn’t light up, but the grimacing and pouting were gone. “But still, I want to know about that guy. Maybe there’s cognitive psience behind him?”

“Sorry for eavesdropping,” the leather jacket guy said with a feminine voice, revealing a delicate face. “But what Sis knows is that the victim was part of law enforcement. Keep it a secret, okay?”

If not for the crimson eyes, Ren wouldn’t recognize Makoto. Even the braided headband was gone! Eight months, and the last traces of the goody-two-shoes model student faded away, Queen taking her place.

“We will,” he said, pinching Futaba’s shoulder. “Cool jacket, though.”

A yelp, and Futaba returned to Earth, breaking away from her mental calculations. “Yeah! The best gear for a repel-men effect!”

“Do you think so?” Makoto passed her fingers through her pixie cut, giving a small smile. “But I’m not the only one who’s changed looks, am I right?”

“School’s gone. No council presidents butting into everything I do after classes anymore. Gotta make up for the lost time.” Guess someone liked his ripped band t-shirt, huh?

Makoto laughed, not bothering with covering her mouth; a far cry from the mix of bewilderment and offense she used to express at any teasing. “Ann told me the whole story. Well, I’m glad you’re taking care of yourself. You… needed it more than any of us.”

Cheerfulness vanished as she averted her gaze — why? Then came her turn at one cashier, and Ren’s at another, rendering talking impossible. They met again outside, Makoto checking her receipt, Futaba gorging on chocolate, and Ren trailing behind with all his bags.

“So, what did you want to say?” No, he wouldn’t shy away from her mood swing. Toudai was a long way from Yongen-Jaya; her meeting wasn’t a coincidence. And if she chose to talk in person instead of creating a private chat room, she meant to discuss more than study tips.

“We’ll talk at Leblanc. Now, let me help you.” Makoto took several bags from his hands, carrying them without effort. “I see you’ve slacked off, so please, go back to exercising or your body won’t handle the stress of college and work! A better diet isn’t enough and you know that! And that’s for you too, Futaba!”

Same old Makoto.

Vegetables in the fridge, a steaming mug on the counter, and Ren poured the spices into their respective jars, reveling in the aromatic cloud of cardamom and turmeric around his nose. Jars closed, and he passed the sugar bowl to Makoto, who pushed it aside, taking her coffee black.

“I took you for granted. I was so worried about my sister that I gambled with your life, underestimating the pain you went through.” She clutched the mug handle, tiny cracks forming close to the body. “Maybe it’s too late for it, but I’m sorry.”

Bile burned his throat as his stomach sank, flashes of the interrogation room blurring his vision. The drugs, the beating, the clouded recollections, the slimmest thread of hope hanging on Sae Niijima’s neglected sense of justice. After such torture, juvie was a winter resort.

“It’s not. I’m right here. But I’ve never been as desperate as I was at that  _ fucking  _ Palace,” Ren said between watery eyes and overworked lungs, picking up a glass of water. “And  _ no one _ noticed it. But I still don’t know how we could have succeeded without that plan, so, apology accepted. Thank you, though. It means a lot.”

“It was only after my studies that I learned how horrible the police treated you. You, of all people!” She finished her coffee in one gulp, covering her face. “An innocent! The one who taught me about living for myself, about true justice! You’re a good man, and I promise I’ll never take advantage of our friendship again!”

“Me too!” Futaba sat at Makoto’s side, laptop closed inside her backpack. “You taught me how to live, too, and after that, you became my hero. The hero who never lost his cool, and always had a backup plan. Having the time of my life playing a real game, with real powers, I forgot you’re a boy with feelings and dreams just like me! Crap, I don’t know what I would do if you were gone!”

Makoto put the broken handle inside the empty mug, biting her lower lip. “After everything, I can’t join the police anymore. I’ll choose a different path in law to bring justice to people like you, I swear.”

“Don’t give up your dreams for me...” Finishing his water, Ren searched for the napkins, trying in vain to wipe his face. Pain? No, release. The repressed sorrow of more than a year, rolling down his cheeks. No more abandonment, no more rancor. Just the acknowledgement that yes, they had failed him; yes, he had the right to rant and cry.

His friends weren’t perfect; neither was he. And why would he want to be? The reward for perfection, true or feigned, was to be treated like a machine, tossed away at the first sign of wear.

“I’m not. They just changed.”

“But… But… It’s…” His nose burned, his head throbbed, and he threw away his last shred of composure, air too thick to swallow, saltiness filling his mouth. Whimpers, wails; let him be fragile, let him be human!

A hand on his shoulder offered relief. “Boy, you can’t work like this,” Sojiro said, taking away Makoto’s mug. “Go rest in your room, talk to your friend in peace. It’s fine.”

Guided by the girls, Ren sat on the bed, shaking and hiccuping with a throat too dry and a nose too wet. Crumpled tissues piled up at his side as he struggled to control his breathing, each word following a sob, pain made bearable by Futaba’s hand over his own and Makoto’s fingers through his hair.

Morgana woke up, jumping onto his lap after a tissue ball hit the floor. “Geez, what happened?”

“It’s fine, I… I…” Ren’s hands curled into fists, eyes stinging with more tears. “I chose to keep it to myself at the time! For everyone! Wh— What if I had broken down in the middle of an infiltration? What about morale?”

Makoto took off his drenched glasses, cleaning them with a fresh tissue. “Then we would have comforted you. As a team. As friends.”

“But only one of us was the leader. And everyone here went through so much crap, and… I did, too. I did!” With burning cheeks and sore muscles, he dropped his head on Makoto’s shoulder, Futaba climbing on his bed to hug him from behind. “It was awful... Horrible... So let me  _ cry _ , let me  _ feel _ , even if it’s too late!”

“Cry anytime you want; we’re right here.” Futaba’s hold tightened, skinny arms warm against Ren’s shivering body. “Nobody thinks you’re weak or pathetic. We like you! A whole lot!”

Ren stayed silent, tension easing amidst Futaba’s chin on the top of his head, Makoto’s whispers of reassurance. Every tear washed his heart, dissolving the prison garb of his soul, and he felt no shame exposing his bare emotions, his deepest insecurities. He no longer had a fear of vulnerability, for he could walk naked towards freedom, and no hardship would hurt him worse than imprisoning himself.

No fake security offered more peace than bathing in starlight.

With the soft weight of Morgana curling on his lap, Ren recovered his breath, leaving Makoto’s shoulder and wiping his puffy, clammy eyes clean. Strained muscles became loose; his aching throat, soothed.

“Feeling better now?” And Morgana didn’t wait for an answer to rub his cheeks all over Ren’s stomach, climbing onto his chest to hug him with his front paws, his purrs uninterrupted.

“Tired.” Ren stretched his arms. “Need a nap.”

Futaba left the bed, giving him some precious mattress space. “Man, I get it! Then… I’ll let you rest. But don’t be afraid to talk to me, okay?”

“Wait! Before I forget, there’s another reason why I came here.” Makoto opened her jacket, pulling out two deep blue envelopes from its inside pocket. “One for each.”

An invitation to Makoto’s birthday, to be held at her apartment next Sunday — damn, in the middle of dealing with his issues, Ren had forgotten it! She was the eldest, so she would be ninete— no, twenty!

“Please don’t worry about gifts,” she said. “Your visit will be enough to make me happy. Now, do you need help with anything? More water? Does your head hurt?”

He declined, giving both girls a tight hug before they left. A pass by the restroom to wash his face, and Ren sank his head into the pillow, Morgana lying at his side. Turning away from the window to avoid the last hints of sunlight, he let heavy eyelids lead the way to sleep, until his phone vibrated on the window sill.

**18:17 YUSUKE:** Apologies for my insistence, but do you have an answer from Boss already?

**18:18 YUSUKE:** I discovered that our room has a private open-air bath. 

No old men to interrupt their kisses or attendants to watch their behaviour. No closing times to lock him outside. What was with artists being better at deduction than detectives, anyway?

**18:19 REN:** Yes; I’m free to go. ❤️ Can I call you? Makoto came here today and… long story.

**18:19 YUSUKE:** Certainly. 

“Done,” Ren said, phone in ear, petting Morgana’s back with his free hand. “She made me cry in public, but I needed it.”

“That is terrible! Should I persuade her to give you a proper apology?”

“No! Listen.”

A summary of her visit followed, with Yusuke’s copious regrets for his thoughtless attitude in the past and promises of doing better in the future. Ren didn’t cry — his exhausted tear ducts and Yusuke’s endearing bashfulness didn’t allow it. Instead, the conversation shifted to Haru’s commission and stained glass studies, birthday cakes and subway meetings.

Night fell, and between long digressions about Heian literature and flower language, the phone chimed with a low battery alarm, bringing Ren back to the reality of unfinished coursework and sweat sticking to his clothes.

“Got to go,” he said, “unless I want to clean myself in the sink again.”

“Then do not fret, and keep in mind I will kiss your tears away whenever you need. Good night.”

His evening tasks, his bath, all were done with a light spring in his step, the ease of a burden relieved, a business finished. Despite his grueling student life, the euphoria Ren craved became more than a distant mirage; it took form in hugs, tempura flakes, and phone calls. The lotus rose from the grime, and began to bloom.

And as he went to bed again, starlight beckoned him.


	11. Study, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mentions of physical abuse - it's just one line and not detailed, but better safe than sorry!

A lotus-shaped ceiling light reflected on Ren’s patent leather shoes as he stepped onto the bold, geometric rug, its milky glass diaphanous against the dark, rounded walls of shelves, crammed with large books. A study — why? When he wanted to eat, he got the dining room; when he wanted a bath, the bathroom. Even at college he didn’t read much, so what had triggered this summoning?

_ Bookworms. _ Like that time with Haru and the garden.

“You’re early.” Leaving his book on the desk, Joker strode towards him with open arms, glasses lending him a meek, collected look. “More fun for us!”

In the place of thick leather or bare skin, cashmere, inviting Ren’s fingers to linger on his torso. The flavor of cinnamon latte spread to his tongue as lips met, twin pairs of glasses bumping into each other. “I’ve had a hard day.”

“No problem.” He straightened the lapels of Ren’s woolen blazer, wrists exuding a whiff of sandalwood. “If you need to take a nap or sleep earlier, I’ll be happy to see you, no matter why. Don’t ask me to force you to stay dreaming, though. That won’t happen.”

“Is that even possible?”

“Yes,” Joker said, kissing Ren's hand. “But as much as I love your visits, I won’t turn you into Sleeping Beauty because of my loneliness. I want you to thrive, not give you an excuse to hide from your problems. A rest, not a shutdown.”

More time to explore the Den, rather than discovering a room each night? A great idea for one of those rainy, dreary Sundays where the only way to stave off boredom was with sleep. But leaving everyone concerned about his well being? Not worth it — his daily life was hectic, yet the farthest from hellish. “Don’t worry; I just got curious.”

Then,  _ loneliness. _

And Joker did tell him about it at their first meeting.

“Must have been difficult, living by yourself.” Took more than a year for his friends to make amends for their own negligence — Ren refused to commit the same mistake, when Joker had awaited him for a long time. Long enough to assume he would never arrive, yet his hope never wavered. “What do you do when I’m not here, except for visiting others? I’ve never asked you that.”

Joker’s eyes widened, glasses sliding down his nose. For a moment he stood still, cheeks tinged pink, until parted lips gave way to a broad, shining smile. “What would you do if you had time, money, and all of this?”

An impish retort, but instead of a sharp bite, a gentle nibble. The lion of their trysts was nowhere to be found, a cat taking over its place. Elegant, sophisticated, but a cat, nonetheless. “Lots of reading and writing,” Ren said, tousling the locks behind Joker’s ears. “Would cook all the French dishes I can’t afford unless I want to survive on curry for a month—”

“You’re right.” A playful wink, and the tip of Joker’s tongue nudged between Ren’s lips as hands slid inside wool, fondling his waist over a thin layer of black cotton. “Don’t forget the long baths and the fancy drinks.”

His frame could be slender; his walk, graceful, yet his claws were sharp as ever. And for every skipped heartbeat and fingertip grazing the small of his back, Ren sucked on his tongue, scratched the nape of his neck, stole his breath. “Like relaxing with a martini in hand, wearing silk pajamas after a bubble bath, listening to the piano?”

“Sexy.” Joker rested his head on Ren’s shoulder, nuzzling his neck as arms locked into a hug. “But it gets boring without company.”

“What if I had never arrived?”

“Impossible. As soon as you daydreamed about luxury, you would reach me. But on your worst days you had nightmares, and on the best ones you were too exhausted to even dream.” His hold tightened as his voice weakened, tinged with pain. “I know you switched to doormat mode to deal with your family, but it broke my heart to watch you like that!”

Jail for not acing a test. Jail for not ironing all the clothes in time, homework be damned. What good came from well-to-do parents, if Ren couldn’t get rid of black eyes and swollen cheeks in his dreams? Those  _ criminals, _ they even stole his peaceful nights! 

“Don’t worry,” he said, returning the hug, tight enough for their hearts to beat as one. “I won’t meet them again.”

“That’s why I took matters into my own hands after you left them. You would have met me sooner or later in the attic, but I’d waited too long.”

_ Wait _ — could his third year have been more bearable? “So why didn’t you summon me before?”

“To respect your time.” Joker’s warm fingers counteracted his steely gaze. “And because it would be too cruel to give you pep talks and false hope when hell awaited you at dawn. What would it help, to dress your wounds just to throw you to the wolves again?”

Nothing. Taking off the armor on the battlefield was insane, not rebellious. “I understand.”

“I wanted nothing more than to arrive in your world and lend you a hand. But I couldn’t, and I still can’t do that. Sorry.”

“It’s over now. We’re together; screw the past.” A friend, a lover, and a healer. A compassionate, loving boy, right in his arms, that he didn’t tire of running fingers through his hair and covering his forehead with kisses. “Would have been better if I hadn’t arrived naked, in an unknown bed, being called a caged bird, though.”

“Would you believe me if you saw me dressed like this?”

“Not at all.” In the past, he would have mistaken Joker, with his creased trousers and lace-up shoes, for an avatar of his parents’ expectations, a caricature of an obedient son. Yet when they lost themselves in another long kiss, full of heated tongues and deep sighs, he welcomed Joker’s embrace of softness, of feeling.

One time, people taught Ren that, for a man, an open heart was shameful, weak. They lied. It was strength. 

“Anyway, which books here are your favorites?” He let go of his arms, fingers gliding from a collection of  _ Memories of a Gentleman Thief _ to volumes of  _ Fairy Tales for Adults,  _ stopping at a pedestal supporting a bust of Arsene in black marble.

Joker leaned on the desk, flashing a bare ankle as he crossed his legs. “All of them. Pick one.”

Ren skipped all books about robberies and cons — he would apologize to Arsene later. Gambling? Interesting, but he wanted a gentler read. Then, cookbooks and wine guides, adventure novels and gothic tomes, old favorites and his wildest, most self-indulgent plots encased in leather.

His choice? None of them — what caught his eye was a series of gem-encrusted, colorful covers. Poetry? Diaries? Without titles or numbering, he rested his hand on the blue and red books, the former’s asymmetrical cherry branches and the latter’s chevrons and lotuses forming a striking blend of delicate and bold, cozy and daring.

Like Yusuke and Joker.

Would be better if he could  _ actually _ pick the red one from the shelf. Was it too big? Nonsense — both books were the same size. Maybe turning it around to unstick it, or what if…

A mechanism hummed through the room, pulling the shelf away from his reach, hiding it behind another. Taking its place came a glass-fronted cabinet, displaying his full arsenal of knives and pistols.

“I told you to pick up a book, not to pull a lever.” In a tufted armchair, Joker burst into laughter, hands gripping into suede arms, tears leaking from his eyes. “Of everything here, you had to find the secret shelf on your first try?”

“Thief instincts,” Ren said, sitting and grinding his hips on Joker’s lap. If he wanted banter and tricks, that’s what he would get. “Why waste that cool cover? Do you feel ashamed of your romance novels? Free your heart, come on!”

Two could play at the trickster game!

A few seconds of grinding were enough to shut his eyes and wipe the grin from his face, his shortness of breath coming from pants instead of laughs. “Why do you think they’re romances?”

Ren turned around, straddling his legs, showing him the blue book. “Wedding kimonos and pink gems for cherry petals on this cover. Or are they erotica?”

“One of them is a thriller...” Undoing Ren’s top button, Joker pulled him closer, peppering his neck with kisses and nibbles. Hands slid down from collar to chest, then thighs, as his meek countenance vanished, replaced by a piercing gaze and a stronger grip.

What else, taking off his belt? Such a devil, giving a feeble lie while sending shivers through his skin, stealing gasps from his throat! But if Joker had the guts to turn the situation to his advantage, so did he. Licking his own lips, Ren left the book on a glossy end table, dropping his weight on Joker, fingertips grazing along his waist. “Erotic thriller.”

“No, just a thriller.” Failure — Joker refused to tremble or blush, pressing the tip of his nose in return. “Queen would run Johanna over the entire Den if I wrote anything with her having the hots for any guy.”

That explained the makeover! “Fine. All erotica, except hers. And Mona’s and Sophie’s, I hope. Right, Joker?  _ Right?” _

“Don’t be stupid.” Joker tugged on one of Ren’s unruly locks. “But yes, the others are self-insert romances, and I had a hell of a time writing them. You do the same with drama!” His defiant eyes and snappy voice transformed into chuckles and kisses, hands cradling Ren’s cheeks. “As for the red cover, I have another. For my special project.”

“You counted on me to find the lever.” Glasses off, he pulled up the hem of Joker’s sweater, together with his undershirt. “So you could suggest for me to pick any knife, and shred my clothes with it. Then you would tie my wrists with the belt, toss me on the desk, and take me with only your fly down. All for your dirty book. Naughty boy...”

Before any quips, Ren’s blazer fell to the ground, its rustling muffled by the puffs and gasps that escaped from both mouths as they kissed, tongues hungry for the spice of a young man’s desire, fingers desperate for new buttons to open, new layers to shed.

Bare chests reveled in their shared warmth, evolving to fire at the rubbing of nipples against skin, hands fondling lower and lower on their backs. Joker’s glasses dropped as Ren massaged his cock over his trousers, moans louder with every stroke. 

Behind black coffee, milk chocolate; beneath studded leather, gauzy lace; after a cocky smirk, a persistent blush — not even the firm grasp on Ren’s buttocks disguised his lack of dominance, darkened eyes expressing the need to be adored, treated like the jewel, the treasure he was.

Precious.

From the curl of his lashes to the graceful angles of his jaw, that was the only word Ren could use to describe him.

“All right, enough!” Joker pushed Ren to sit upright as he grasped for air. “That’s a fine idea... but right now, I want romance. Walking barefoot on the beach. Sharing an umbrella under a rainy night. Holding hands while watching the sun rise. Not just sex, it was never just about sex! Not for the book, and not for us!”

_ Precious! _ Was that the wistfulness that made Yusuke fall in love with him? The longing eyes, the direct words? The little flashes of the real Ren that peeked through the bruises and scars of the Stoic Leader?

He kissed Joker’s hand, getting off his lap. “I want it too.”

“Then make your life beautiful.” After taking off his shoes, Joker picked up another book, sitting on the rug. “All the fun outings with your friends, all the activities that you put your heart into? Those are my dreams, Ren. As I teach you how to fly, you make me less lonely.”

The excitement at the shop window. The courage to go after Yusuke. The serenity after his tears. Dreams — windows to a brighter future, heralds of rebirth. And while he lacked the power to pull Joker through a magic portal, he could transform loneliness into enthusiasm, banality into wonder. For when he let Joker become part of his life, Ren gathered the strength to bloom. “Don’t expect many frills, but thrills? I’ll give you a new one everyday.”

“They better be good.” Joker tapped the rug, moonlight shining inside his eyes, beaming through his smile. But why follow his suggestion without a flair? Wasn’t it him who insisted so much on self-expression?

Baring his feet? Fine. Sitting at Joker’s side? Boring — Better to lie down on the floor, using Joker’s lap as a pillow, and take that white book from his hands! But when Ren opened it, instead of an illustration or a title page, he found handwritten jokes and poems on lined paper, margins overflowing with doodles and notes.

“Here,” Joker said, retrieving the book and tracing Ren’s profile from forehead to chin, bliss radiating from his gentle touch and soft countenance. “Let me read some good ones.”

Words travelled from oceans to meadows, from abysses to heavens. As pages turned, shackles melted under blue flames, exploding into infinite stars. When eyes met blank lines, Joker’s tone softened to a whisper, asking Ren to come closer, to lock their lips.

Entwined limbs, sweet kisses, a fluttering heart. Hands on cheeks, scents mingling, improvised verses. The mundane infatuation of two boys, the sublime passion of two heroes. Those who dared to dream not of endless struggle, but constant joy. Those who refused to pick between flesh and mind, taking both, working them into something beautiful.

The poetry of freedom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've put the presumed final chapter count - 17, since I'm pretty sure all the next "rooms" will be also two-parters. Will edit if necessary, but I believe it won't. Also, it's helpful for you guys to get an idea of this fic's total length!


	12. Living Room, Part 1

“Tycoon again!” Ann threw her last card on the coffee table, lip gloss shimmering with her grin.

Makoto’s apartment, while large, lacked decoration other than family pictures and motorcycle posters. Haru’s gift, an heirloom white lily she named Mako-tan, did little to break its austerity. Not that it mattered — Ryuji and Futaba excelled on spreading used napkins and macaron crumbles across all surfaces.

“I’m rich, for a change.” Ren did no better, covering his mouth with golden flakes from a Printemps croissant. Haru assuming the costs of the party and bringing the food? Stroke of genius.

“Poor! Better than a beggar, I think,” Haru said, feeding Morgana a morsel of smoked salmon. Which meant…

“Ann! It is most unbecoming for a young woman to cheat at cards.” Carrying an almost-full hand, Yusuke hung his head, bangs covering his face. “Please offer the group a proper apology, so we can play another round without hard feelings.”

“Not my fault you have awful luck! So, Yusuke...”

Takamaki House Rules: single rounds, no bankruptcies, and in the end, the Beggar had to answer one question to the Tycoon under threat of a dare. If fate took pity on him, Haru would win and he could get away with a polite question. But Ann?

“Are you in love with someone? You look so happy!”

Still charging interest for the nude modeling incident.

Yusuke’s head almost hit the table, shaking hands grabbing onto his trousers, face as red as Ren’s jacket. Several deep breaths, and he straightened his back, stalling his answer with small, slow bites on a palmier.

“Come on, Inari!” Futaba poked his shoulder. “ _ Yes  _ or  _ no _ ! I want to play the next round!”

Against an empty mouth and the eyes of the Phantom Thieves upon him, Yusuke relented. “Yes.”

The room erupted in laughs and hollering, but Ren only let out a smile, despite his need to jump over to Yusuke and hold him against his chest. But where would be the fun in making their relationship public so soon? Where would be the tension, the drama, the surprise? A game without risk couldn’t be called a game at all!

Makoto put a tray with little domes of roll cake and strawberries on the dining table, adding more color amidst golden brown pastries. “Is it a problem if I try a charlotte royale now?”

“Not at all, love, let me eat with you!” Haru’s dress swished as she followed Makoto, feeding her strawberries and sharing a glass of iced tea. White lace for one, dark blazer for another: two brides in all but name.

“Keep one for me when you finish, okay?” Ann shuffled the cards without snickering. Ryuji was too busy trying all the quiche varieties to retort about their relationship, and Sae was helping Makoto convince Haru to stay the night.

They were fine with it.

Ren could have given Yusuke chocolate one year ago, could have ridden on the ferris wheel with him last summer, could have written love letters for the entire year! Their friends were fine with it! In the same way he didn’t pass judgement on their backgrounds, they didn’t judge him, either!

“Don’t forget me, guys!” Futaba took Haru’s previous seat, putting her sock-clad feet up on the sofa.

Cards dealt, Ren developed no strategy except for not losing — Futaba would win anyway. But for the prize of Yusuke’s blushing face when telling everyone he loved him, he needed nothing else.

Moments later, with a revolution, a pair of eights, and a counter-revolution, she won and Yusuke lost, to no one’s shock. Adjusting her glasses, she broke into a too-wide grin, manic giggling escaping through the spaces between her teeth. “Inari! Who makes your heart pitter-patter like the heroine of a shitty shoujo manga?”

_ It’s showtime! _

Without a word, Yusuke counted his leftover cards, scarlet returning to his cheeks, yet he refused to hide his face.

“Hope the girl you like doesn’t mind shelling out for the dates, dude! It’s the shogi girl from Kosei, right? Damn, what a babe!”

A bite on another palmier, and Ryuji’s quip went unaddressed.

“Blurt it out.” Aiming a black fingernail to Yusuke’s face, Ren sipped on his iced tea with the sophistication of a martini, the loud, devilish laughter inside him surfacing only as a smirk. “Or we’ll spend the night here.”

Instead of stammering and trembling, tight fists and razor-sharp brows. In the place of melting snow, a glacier. A distressed damsel, he wasn’t, but if he dared to lie, if he denied his relationship, if he ignored the open-mindedness of his friends, he and Ren would have a serious talk at Leblanc, coffee and kisses not included.

“Such immaturity,” Yusuke said, countenance unflappable. “You already know I love you, Ren.”

_ Bloody. Cunning. Fox. _

Vigilant eyes turned to him, spotlights catching a thief. The barrage of questions about kisses and dates, deafening alarms. Nowhere to run — he asked for it, he got it, and the way to leave the game with dignity was to own it. Glass on the table, a sweep of his bangs, and Ren stood up, offering a hand to Yusuke.

“I just wanted to hear it in your voice. Should have asked you upfront, sorry.”

“You terrible, capricious imp.” Holding both of Ren’s hands, Yusuke pushed them towards his own heart. “I shall give you attention, since you crave it so much. Come.”

Away from the crowd, surrounded by madeleines and éclairs, Ren clung to Yusuke’s arm, echoes of his confession spreading warmth through skin more than a string of raunchy fantasies. “It’s all so new. Loving each other, I mean. Us holding hands, kissing, or talking like this, I’ve never expected it would feel so good. This openness, it doesn’t hurt.”

“I had resigned myself to a life of solitude.” Yusuke twirled the black lock on the top of Ren’s head. “But you proved to me that loneliness was not my fate, that having a lover or a family was not a pathetic delusion of mine. For that, do not hesitate to ask for affection. I insist.”

How much time until both graduated and could spend the evenings basking in each other’s tenderness? Reading books together, baking cakes, sharing a bed? All the sweet delights from Joker’s musings, Ren wanted it.

“Yo, we got a karaoke app,” Ryuji said. “Will you join us or spend the rest of the party being cheesy dorks? Geez, guys, I thought it would take some years before everybody coupled up!”

Charging into the dining room, Futaba shoved her phone into Ren’s face. “Sing, and I’ll let the cold shoulder you gave us slide.”

“This song, Futaba!” Ann whispered something in her ear. An American pop song, what else? Although the alternative, a saccharine ballad from a manufactured boy band, hardly fared better.

“I’m sure our lovestruck Ren won’t disappoint us, right? Or else…”

Haru’s deepening voice sealed the deal. With the girls trapping him and Yusuke inside a circle, passing the phone around to each other in approval of the song, the swimsuit scheme from Shido’s Palace flashed through his mind, bile burning his throat. Damn, compensation time.

When Ren grabbed the phone, Yusuke pulled his sleeve. “Put on a show for me.”

With his favorite song on the screen, easy. Swaying his head to the mellow piano tune, standing up when the saxophone lent verve to the melody, Ren twirled the phone, lyrics redundant after years of enjoyment.

The hand flourishes, the breathy tone — Ren was rhythm, harmony. His voice carried him through a rainy autumn afternoon, the friend with the clingy drenched shirt. A hot bath, a plate of soup; the rainstorm persisting through the night.

Such a pity that Yusuke had no more use for his white uniform shirt.

Chorus brought whispers in the bedroom, kisses under the sheets. His notes swung from high to low, head high and eyes closed, phone quenching his thirst for song, then the implications of Ann’s suggestion fell on him like cold water.

Oh, he was putting on a show all right.

What one does when getting wet during a performance? Simple, take off the drenched clothes! Before the second verse started, Ren slid his jacket off his bare shoulders, hanging it on his elbows, then dropping it on Yusuke’s lap.

Makoto’s clapping followed the bass line and Haru did a poor act of covering her blushing face, while Ann and Futaba’s hollering stifled Ryuji’s grumbles. But Yusuke — ah, Yusuke — lost the ability to blink, wide pupils darkening his eyes, fists clenching on leather.

Lyrics came back with a yearning for rain, friendship growing into romance, hearty dinners and shared showers. And on a snowy winter night, the lover did not pay a visit, for he already kept their bed warm.

Ren passed through the chorus again, fingers brushing Yusuke’s chin, hips swaying with the melody, voice swinging between lively and husky, gentle and sharp. For years he dreamed of being the man caught in the rain, of finding a warm home, a warm love, yet fate handed him a rainy boy instead.

The warmest lover he could ever ask for.

Foreheads touched as the piano faded to silence, applause overpowering the room. A kiss? An ‘I love you’ back? Redundant. The final score in the app? Irrelevant. The sugariness of Yusuke’s breath, the breadth of his smile — all mattered more than pixels on a screen.

Ren gave Yusuke space to regain his composure, handing Makoto the phone with a deep bow. “Now, we need a duet between the birthday girl and her special lady.”

Makoto and Haru chose a rock ballad, then the phone was passed around for a litany of genres and singers until the battery died. When Sae put a large Saint Honoré cake in the middle of the table, Ann sneaked into the bathroom, returning with a large box with a silver bow on top.

“This is our gift, Makoto!” she said. “I hope you like it, or at least think it will be useful!”

Suggesting to split the costs of a cool briefcase over a private chat? Great idea, but ended up a tad expensive, since the entire group forbid Yusuke to spend money, but after Makoto praised the quality of the leather, eyes glittering when her laptop fit inside? Worth it.

Besides, Ren’s payment would come next week.

“I forgot to ask, Ren.” Haru picked up a macaron, gazing at its decorative lavender petals. “When is your birthday? I still need to learn yours!”

“August 3rd. Never celebrated it, though.”

“C’mon, man...” Ryuji slung his arm around Ren, slapping his shoulder. “I could at least have taken you for some ramen.”

Ren bit on a canelé, its rum, vanilla and caramel blending into heaven on his tongue. “Last summer we travelled all over Japan, we can’t top that.” A better gift than ridiculous jokes, silly pranks and carefree games with friends? Inconceivable — but cake was great, too! “But whatever you plan for me, I’ll take it.”

“Are you serious?” Futaba chuckled, her glasses shining. “You just lost your right to complain!”

What horrible party would she set up? A gaming marathon drowning in junk food? For someone willing to hack and steal, that was outright cute. “Fine, because I won’t.”

Twenty lit candles, a chorus of ‘Happy Birthday to You’ with passable English, Sae filling Makoto’s first champagne glass, and after Ren found extra space in his stomach for a piece of cake, he shuddered at the size of the plastic container full of leftover pastries he got.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to help with the dishes?” Crap, enough sweets for a week!

“Don’t fret,” Haru said, “we can take care of the house just fine. And I wish you and Yusuke all the happiness!”

“Too much help will hinder our plans! Also, sorry for the surprise. I would have told you about Haru when we met, but… you know.” Front door open, Makoto led the group to the elevator. “Anyway, thanks for coming. Never would I have believed a party could be so fun.”

The night chill and the vacant train let Ren release a long sigh after sweltering hugs and noisy farewells, its vestiges remaining in the warmth of Yusuke’s hand over his own and Futaba’s ramblings about her new gacha. Even Morgana dared not raise his head with a sarcastic putdown, too exhausted to care.

After she insisted on going home by herself, refusing to waste a second away from her computer, Ren leaned against the Leblanc door, cleaning his glasses on his t-shirt.

“Walking me home, what a gentleman.” Streets, empty; Morgana, sleeping. A light tread, and his lips met Yusuke’s, the crisp whiff of cologne and the lingering aroma of meringue cream prompting an encore of the karaoke song in his thoughts. “Want some coffee? Water?”

“None.” A smile graced Yusuke’s face, shimmering with delight. “However, I brought an object of your interest.”

Inside the attic, leaving Morgana on the sofa, Ren kicked off his heeled boots, reveling in the comfort of bare feet. Meanwhile, Yusuke laid four newspaper-wrapped packages side by side on the bed, their symmetry lending them refinement despite the humble setting.

“My apologies for not giving this reproduction to Joker, as promised. I wished to deliver it in person.”

_ What the— _ Ah, the box! Tiers unwrapped, Ren assembled it, their imagery bringing him a longing for lotus soap and thick shampoo. Yet before closing it, he slid his finger across the painting on the top tier, with Yusuke in heavy silks pulling him away from the lake, his own light kimono and crown of lotuses a paradox against white furs and frost-covered plum trees.

Red and blue. Summer and winter. And they got together in spring.

“Lotuses bloom in summer,” Yusuke said, combing Ren’s bangs. “How fortunate that your name and your birthday follow their natural patterns.”

“Incredible; thanks.” The beautiful flower in the lake, the one the fox kissed. Not preserved inside a dome or cut into pieces for food. Kissed, then whisked away for a sultry night. Affection and desire, tenderness and passion. “What should I put inside? Souvenirs, food, old photos? I love it.”

“That is up to you. I will not be offended if—”

Putting a knee on the bed, arms wrapping around Yusuke’s chest, the lotus kissed the fox back. Lips pressed against lips, wet and sloppy, tongues swirling with pent-up need. “I love you.”

Restless gasps gave way to shaking arms, forcing Yusuke to prop his elbows on the bed, his balance weak. With another kiss, Ren stole his strength, pushing him on the mattress, arms crossed above his head, a tantalizing sliver of skin peeking from the gap between t-shirt and pants.

“Ren...”

“I’ll show it.” Climbing over Yusuke, Ren hiked up his t-shirt, painting his face crimson with each brush along his ribs, each stroke on his stomach, each rub on his chest. Soon grunts and sighs inundated the attic, made louder by a trail of nibbles on his neck, a firm tug at his hair.

Half-shut eyes, glistening lips, heaving chest — his long jacket, intact; his belt, untouched, but Yusuke already showcased his alluring submissiveness, ready to be ravished. For every moan, Ren would dominate him with more kisses; for every twitch, fierier caresses. And when Yusuke cried his name, he would get rid of his clothing, giving him the freedom to display his flushed skin, dripping cock, aching entrance…

Yet before Ren did more than a peck on the forehead, Yusuke pulled him down by the collar, grinding against smooth leather, distressed cotton and stiff denim, replacing Ren’s control with flames under his skin, sparks in his veins, as their tongues plunged and flicked, circled and danced.

“...Yusuke.”

Pinned wrists, aligned hips, a light coat of sweat, and their pace hastened, their sighs deepened. Pants too thick, too tight, but Ren didn’t want to break contact, not even for a moment; a second away from Yusuke was a wasted second, but damn, not going further became pure agony! So, one hand on Yusuke’s wrists, one on his own belt, keep grinding, keep grinding...

“Oh, fuck!” The rocking of their hips hindered Ren’s balance, making him aim for the first surface available, pushing Yusuke’s open bag on the floor. Pencil cases and sketchbooks, tissues and keys, all spread out.

Together with a gem-encrusted blue book.

Morgana woke up, tail puffed out, running in circles before going down the stairs. “I’ll tell Boss you’re running a motel in his attic!”

“Go meow at his front door, he’ll understand everything.” To Ren’s luck, nothing scattered under the bed, making it easier to clean up the mess in no time. Still, the interrupted moment... “Yusuke? How did you get this book?”

“Excuse me? I was absolutely sure that Joker had told you about his favorite book.” Yusuke sat on the bed, straightening out his t-shirt as if he never veered close to having sex. “Fox lent me his copy. Joker loves it so much, he requested his help for the illustrations.”

Long afternoons of reading and drawing, the color of the snow reflecting the infinite possibilities of blank paper. Ink, brushes, tea, and for every finished page, Joker and Fox reenacted a scene — a fair payment for listening to hours of steamy fantasies. “Are you enjoying it? The story, I mean.”

“I have been carrying it for the entire day and failed to read a single page.” Placing the book on his lap, Yusuke passed his hand over the pink gems, fiddled with the red ribbon bookmark, only then opening it to its exact middle. “Truth to be told, I hold more interest in the drawings. Fox worked with pens instead of brushes; a departure from our typical style.”

A double-page illustration, lush and intricate, with thin lines. Not ukiyo-e; something more modern. But the paper umbrella, the blowing petals, the old-fashioned kimonos? Pure Kitagawa. Just a boat ride, but the entwined hands and sleepy gazes elevated it to a piece of heaven.

“How about we read it on the bullet train?” Ren said, back to Yusuke’s side, resting his head on a bony shoulder, emulating the drawing, heart fluttering at the idea of borrowing a little of its beauty. “And we can… finish what we started…” _ Why the trailing off, the burning cheeks? Again, nothing to lose! _ “At the inn... more space... Make it special too, you know.”

Yusuke traced Ren’s jaw with a fingertip, holding his chin for a kiss. Mild, chaste, yet enough to transform a rundown attic into a cherry blossom garden, if only for a phantom moment. “No objections.”

Maybe a tad silly to treat a sudden trip, in the very beginning of their relationship, like the happy ending of a fairytale — but then, what was so sinful about it? Let him dream! Let him love! The meaning of life wasn’t sacrifice, or violence, or conformity.

But to shine like the stars, dancing on the boundless skies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The August 3rd birthday date is... sillier than expected: one, I wanted Ren as a Leo, matching the lotus blooming season and his dramatic mannerisms; and two, 8/3 -> 8.3 -> 83 — yes, the silly cat smile with glasses emoticon XD


	13. Living Room, Part 2

Thick curtains framed soaring windows, lending more protection against the outside snow. On the grand piano, the notes of Sarasvati’s piece conferred order to the crackling of the fireplace, its light reflected on marble and chrome, rivalled only by the cascading chandelier.

“Looking good, huh?” Lounging on the velvet sofa, Joker took off his gloves, raising a cocktail glass in Ren’s direction. “To happiness!”

Coat-tails followed his steps as he kissed Joker’s cheek, outfits matching to the smallest detail. “Are we celebrating Queen’s birthday now?”

“If there’s an afterparty, we weren’t invited. This is for us.”

Declining help with the dishes, persuading Haru to stay the night… Fine, she could have her fun. But then, why the white tie and tails? His burgeoning jazz singing career? Picking up a cocktail from the bar cart, he sat at Joker’s side, swirling the glass against the light. “So, to free hearts?”

They toasted, and bitterness washed down Ren’s throat, counteracted by the brininess of the olive. After a mountain of sweets, nothing was fresher. “Martini?”

“A proper one.” Joker wiped the corner of Ren’s mouth with his thumb, lined eyes dark and hazy. “Gotta touch up my bartender skills, now that I have company.”

“I don’t know, this would be right up Arsene’s alley. Thinking about it, you could throw an awesome party by summoning a lot of Personas. No need to wait for me, if it’s drinking buddies you want.”

“Not the same. Personas are masks, roles.” Joker traced the shape of his mask on Ren’s face, finishing with a peck on the nose. “I can summon Rebel You, Domestic You, Sexy You, all aspects of you, and still wouldn’t get the whole you. Even if Arsene gets close.”

The whole him — even without jobs, possessions, or relationships, Ren still was a whole person, an infinity of statements and contradictions into himself. Society tried to tear him apart, weaken him, leave him dependent on its leaders and systems under threat of death, instead of forging bonds because of joy, because of his own humanity, the humanity his friends and Joker rescued from oblivion.

The humanity he rescued himself.

What such insight would bring to his future, Ren didn’t know — his renewed self, so raw, so young. But what it stirred him to do at that moment?

A kiss on Joker’s fingertip. Then on another, and another. Brushing knuckles across the nape of the neck, running fingers through hair, another kiss on his lips. “I’m flattered. But I think you also do a great job on this ‘whole me’ thing.”

“Come on, do I have to tell you again? I am thou.”

“And thou art I.” One person, two selves. At first one meek, the other daring; one subdued, the other dramatic. Yet as days passed, red exploded in the grey world, drenching it with once-repressed passion. Ren and Joker: different stages, different costumes, but their hearts? The same. “What’s next? Wings of rebellion, winds of blessing, the awakening of a new power? Maybe they’ll let you meet me during the day.”

Empty glass on the cart, gloves on wrists, Joker combed back Ren’s bangs, only for them to return to his forehead. “Wouldn’t it be incredible? Well, at least now I’m getting way better dreams than school, work, and the inescapable descent into a boring dad.”

“Depending on how life goes, I won’t even get a girl pregnant. Damn, if things go right, I won’t even marry one,” Ren said, the idea of forgetting guys and choosing a random girl because she was calm and dependable relegated to the conformist nonsense corner. “Adopting a kid, maybe, but boring dad? Boring life? With Yusuke? Never!”

Joker chuckled, stroking his temple when foreheads met. “What happened to the peace and comfort you wanted so much?”

“Yusu— no, Yusuke and you can offer me the coziness I need.” Holding Joker’s shoulders, Ren pushed him onto the sofa, voice deepening. “And the pleasure you two already gave me was stronger than I’ve ever imagined.”

With the sudden fall, Joker gasped for air, face red, smile turning into a grin. “Then work on your imagination. I can give you so much more...”

“Prove it.” The wetness of Joker’s lower lip, a hint of salt on his tongue, the spicy scent from his neck, low hums from his throat — no clothes on the floor, no skin against skin, but enough to infuse Ren’s heart with warmth, his body with lightness. And around them, luxury and decadence, from orchids and plumes to a deluge of strokes and caresses.

With every visit, his pleasure only grew.

As the music increased in tempo, Ren spread nibbles over Joker’s jaw, fingers travelling over arms, waist, hips. In response, Joker fondled his buttocks, relaxed posture and straightforward gaze exuding confidence. He was on the bottom, sure, but not due to weakness or defeat, only the sheer delight of it.

A taste for being spoiled, right? Delicious, if not for the stiff collar and kid gloves denying him access even to Joker’s neck and hands. Not for long, though — hooking a finger under the bow tie, Ren pulled Joker closer, mouth watering at the thought of kissing, licking, sucking all over his naked, blazing skin.

“Hold on,” Joker said, grabbing the offending wrist. “You sang to everyone and won’t offer me a dance?”

Dancing ragtime at midnight in white tie, after martinis and flirting: the only thing more Joker than that would be a grand heist in a mansion full of traps and secret passages. Breaking contact, Ren adjusted his cuffs and gloves, then knelt on the rug, extending him a hand. “Let’s go.”

The two glided over checkered marble, legs stretching and hips swaying between jumps and kicks. With the floor to themselves, they progressed to drops and pirouettes, the room blurring as they performed a deep spin dip. Steps didn’t match the rhythm, but why did it matter, when they came so easy, like a returning memory, like Ren had already danced in his dreams before?

Who led, who followed, which genre Sarasvati played, all faded into irrelevance compared to Joker’s grip on his waist and the fluttering lashes at his twirls. The tempo slowed down, frenetic whirls gave way to gentle turns, chests meeting each other, heartbeats lending a bass line to the music.

And on the first chords of his favorite song, Ren kissed Joker, enveloped by his warm arms, bodies moving as one. Heart to heart, cheek to cheek, and when Joker sang the first verse in whispers, euphoria inundated Ren’s soul.

The rain, the soup, the shower… or rather. the darkness, the salmon, the bath? Kisses and whispers not in the bedroom, but anywhere else in the penthouse. Why conform himself to the role of the enamored comforter all the time, when his dream of being doted on, of being adored was already true?

Besides, if he needed tenderness, Yusuke and Joker would oblige.

After the chorus, Joker slid one hand down Ren’s hips, fingertips under coat-tails bringing the whole of their torsos together, a soft smile on his face. Against such a gesture, Ren’s knees weakened, breathing quickened, desire spurring him to lose himself in the heat, the friction, the sheer passion of it.

Smooth words spoke of warm sheets and snow, embraces and a shared bed. Comfort, pleasure, peace. The freedom to both love and be loved, cry and rejoice — an unstealable treasure.

Ren Amamiya was not alone, and hadn’t been for two years.

When the last piano note dissipated into silence, they locked lips, mask materializing on Joker’s face. Yet the heartbeats persisted, beckoning Ren to hug him tighter, give back some of that heat, make his eyes sparkle with longing. The Den was their sweet home, their cozy refuge; both deserved bliss.

“Here’s your dances,” Ren said, twirling one of the curls at Joker’s nape. “Anything else? Book, tea, massage?”

“The sofa, I guess. Or the rug. Your choice.”

Gone was the lovey-dovey Joker from the last visit, the beguiling rake taking his place. Ren couldn’t complain — poetry nights and fancy balls were great, but the fire in his soul refused to quell to nature metaphors or piano crescendos. Oh no, it craved to glow and burn the more Joker insisted on fiddling with his cufflinks or sending him bedroom eyes. “What about a double bed?”

“Don’t be boring and use your head.” Reaching one arm to the end table, Joker picked up a black plume from a feather and crystal arrangement, tickling Ren’s nose with it. “Snow. Fireplace. Fur rug. I don’t wanna ruin the chance.”

Itches and chuckles, but no sneezes. “Saving the bed for when I’m free enough?”

“No such thing.” Joker flung his tailcoat on the rug. “Freeing yourself is a constant effort, an endless road, all that corny talk. And because I want to fuck you all over the house. Any more questions?”

Ren tugged Joker’s bow tie again, pulling his head close enough for lips to graze on his ear. “When will you stop talking and let me make you come?”

A kiss on his jaw, and Joker threw himself on the sofa, opening his legs over crimson velvet. Fingers unhooked suspenders, opened trousers, pulled down his waistband, cock springing half-hard from tight boxers. “Now. All yours.”

“First time I’ve seen a rug with a seat and cushions.” Kneeling on the actual rug, Ren passed his ungloved hands through the white fur, fingers surrounded by dense, plush luxury. Hmm, to lie his unclothed body on that silky paradise... 

Tailcoat and vest on the floor, he grabbed Joker’s knees, wet lips enveloping the head, tongue pressed against the slit, mouth stretching the deeper he ventured, dragging out pants and sighs from Joker. As he went back and forth, cock slick from his circling tongue, Ren slid one hand between Joker’s thighs, fingertips teasing his entrance, brushing his balls, ending with a firm hold on the shaft.

“What a mouth…” Joker said, loosening his bow tie, legs spread wider. “Gimme more, Ren...”

Despite the softening of Joker’s voice, the up and down of his chest, Ren’s performance failed to bring himself more than a tired jaw — it lacked flair, spice. Oh, Joker could come from a blowjob all right, but that would be an instinctive reaction, not the endgame of a seduction. Backing away from his cock, Ren kissed the tip, eyes fixed on his disheveled hair and glistening lips. “Wait a minute.” 

Picking up a control from the end table, Joker turned off the chandelier, firelight infusing the room with an amber tinge. Gloves cast aside, he lifted Ren’s chin, pouty lips growing into a sharp smile. “Not a second more.”

“Won’t need it.” Ren put his own gloves back on, then fondled Joker’s shaft, smooth leather triggering gasps and hums, shivers running over exposed skin. As he lavished attention on the head with his tongue, strokes faster and stronger, Joker sank his nails into the seat, black magic wrapping his body and leaving him naked and hard, hips thrusting under frantic desire.

Hard nipples grinding against the stiff piqué, body sweltering under too much clothing, erection threatening to rip his boxers apart. Not even gagging at the sudden length in his mouth stopped him from massaging Joker’s perineum and entrance, sucking his cock between gasps for air. And Joker moaned, panted, raised his legs, all by Ren’s own allure — no teasing, no baiting. 

His own charm, his own beauty, bringing a seducer to blushing fits. Standing up, Ren put one foot on the sofa, teasing Joker’s cock with the tip of the shoe, throwing his bowtie on the fire, eyes black with lust. “Look at me. And no jacking off!”

“Not even you?” Joker said, voice weak, twirling one finger around a shoelace.

“Only when I’m done.” Suspenders joined the bowtie, followed by Ren unbuttoning his shirt, licking his lips as he bared his torso, the night air tickling his nipples. Ignoring the gloves, he tried to undo his cuffs, but couldn’t unfasten the links. “But you can help,” he said, extending a wrist to Joker.

Cufflinks undone, shirt pooling on the floor, Ren stretched his hands up, showing off the delicate skin of his inner arms, the long curve of his neck, the lines of his hips as trousers rode down without support. Yet rather than succumbing to passivity, Joker brushed the black plume across ribs, nipples, navel, laying kisses where wrists and gloves met, arousal stealing his breath, flushing his entire face.

Tender caresses, but thrilling enough to set Ren’s blood ablaze, drawing moans out of his mouth, lingering after the plume —  _ Arsene’s _ plume — returned to Joker’s side. Softness, sensuality, opulence: tangible proof of Joker’s feelings, an oasis after undeserved struggle. Not sin, not depravity; just love and pleasure.

“Hey!” Joker took off the shoe, massaging his toes. “I need the other one.”

Soon both shoes hit marble, freeing Joker’s hands to roam across Ren’s calf, knee, thigh, fingers stopping at the waistband button. Why, why didn’t Joker open it already, or use the dark swirls to leave him naked? Why, why was he so foolish to forbid Joker of stroking him just to assert dominance?

_ Please, Joker, let me feel you everywhere! _

“Could you lower your foot so I can continue, or do you prefer to watch me having fun by myself?”

Brash and playful, breathy and velvety — the tone of effortless authority, all-encompassing spells. No choice but obeying, relinquishing control in exchange for fulfillment. With a smile, oh yes, for when Joker unfastened his trousers, pulled them down together with his boxers, ran fingers through his pubic hair, sparks ignited under Ren’s skin, spreading flames from the tip of his nose to the pre-come dripping from his cock.

“Your turn,” Ren said, stocking tops accentuating the paleness of his thighs, their grip tight like needy hands aching to lift his legs up.

“I don’t think so.” Joker circled Ren’s slit, licking his fingertip clean. “Lie down on the rug; I have a better plan.”

And Ren buried himself in thick fur, its thousands of strands caressing his arms, back, buttocks, tender like kisses. Shedding his gloves, he sank his hands into the plush again, craving more of that fluffiness, that decadence, only for Joker to straddle him, hips hovering on his face, bending over to display his tight entrance and shapely backside, mouth nuzzling Ren’s cock.

“Our turn.”

Despite the tantalizing brush of Joker’s cock on his lips, Ren rubbed and kneaded his buttocks, kissing his inner thighs. Firm muscles, supple skin, a whiff of musk and lotus soap; why rush to play with his shaft when his sensitive spots were on display, ready to be worshipped?

But Joker didn’t share his fondness for teasing in that moment — rather than licking along Ren’s trail of hair or nibbling and sucking his groin, he took his entire cock at once, nose grazing his balls, tongue rubbing the length, swirling the head, sending spasms across his body, rendering Ren incapable of uttering anything except moans and yelps.

_ Yes, yes, make it throb, leak! Overwhelm me with your wicked tongue! _ And as Ren lost himself in the heat of his own passion, bucking his hips without restraint, Joker lowered his body, forcing Ren to take his cock, drops of pre-come landing on Ren’s tongue.

Bitter, salty, thick, yet luscious and intoxicating; lust in liquid form. It compelled Ren to lick more, swallow more, choke on that cock like his life depended on it, reveling in the girth, the hardness, the intensity of the thrusts, the loudness of his own moans as Joker returned the ardor, grabbing his spread thighs while taking all of his length, hot breath tingling his balls.

The weight of Joker’s chest on his stomach, the thin layer of sweat over their bodies, the way he left his cock to suck his balls, a finger playing with his entrance… Too much, too much! Ren’s legs trembled, his heart pounded, his cock throbbed, and his body was nothing but ecstasy, floating on a sea of lushness.

“Joker, I…”

A long kiss on the head, sizzling and crushing and wet, and fire ran through Ren’s veins, burning his strength, overwhelming his mind. Waves of bliss caressed skin, loosened limbs, urged him to scream, to shoot his seed inside Joker’s mouth, to make him swallow it all, taste his desire.

“Almost there...” Joker said.

Quick, powerful strokes, a wet line from balls to slit, a gentle massage on his entrance — enough for Joker to moan and writhe, covering Ren’s lips with come. Between gasps, he murmured his name, voice devoid of sharpness or bravado, melting with sweetness.

Delicious.

For a moment, they basked in each other’s warmth, taste, scent, until Joker left the rug, and conjured a flash of black magic. He laid at Ren’s side, face to face, a piece of candy between his lips. “Mint?”

Stealing the mint with a kiss, Ren fondled Joker’s chest, slow and light, fingers roaming across the hardness of bone, the softness of skin. No nipple pinching or neck biting, for his passion had bloomed into tenderness, heart longing for close embraces and entwined hands.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Ren said, eyes paralyzed by Joker’s untamed locks, cheeks and lips matching in color. “It would be a waste to hide you in a dingy place.”

“If you say that...”

“Come on!” Deep chuckles, and lips met in another kiss. “I don’t plan to stay in the attic forever. Can’t I graduate first? I swear I won’t get an ugly apartment.”

Joker popped his own mint, resting his head on Ren’s chest. “You know what? No need for promises, I believe it. You’re not a man who settles for mediocre stuff. Not anymore.”

“Nevermore.”

“Maybe you and Yusuke can live together.” He returned to the sofa, pointing to the wall above the fireplace. “That way, the place will never be ugly. Or boring, at least.”

“I graduate in two years; Yusuke, in four.” Stretching his limbs, Ren sat at Joker’s side, back sore from lying down too close to the floor. “He’s already taking work, but I’ll only have a chance of landing a job with Haru with a diploma. Still...”

_ An excellent idea. _

Even if their relationship changed back to platonic, a house full of colors and aromas would bring them both joy, not to mention the lower expense of shared rent. A makeshift atelier, an oven, and a large bathtub: mundane luxuries compared to their Dens, but powerful enough to change their world.

As manhood dawned, the knife which maimed became the knife that nourished.

“... yeah, that could work. That  _ will _ work.”

“Give me a dream of galettes and soufflés, for a change.”

Ren’s answer consisted of a kiss on the cheek, then a look at whatever Joker pointed at — artwork, of course. The heart of humanity, depicted in paint strokes. In red and blue petals, an allegory of the collective soul, but also of what Ren needed most, a yearning invisible to average people, yet not to an artist’s eye.

Yusuke didn’t know at the time, but he painted the key to his freedom.

_ Desire and Hope. _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I announced on Twitter, my mother passed away from COVID and asthma at Christmas Eve of the last year, so that's why I took a long time updating. Despite the long delay, writing this fic makes me really happy and helped to make my grief a little lighter. To the people who left kind messages at Twitter and Discord, my most sincere thanks.
> 
> 80% done, only two rooms left!


	14. Wine Cellar, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, heed the tags. This will be a WILD RIDE.

File attached, then sent — last Tuesday before the trip, and Ren finished his share of the Culinary Theory group paper. Head on the pillow, he started to doze off without pulling up his sheets, until his phone vibrated like a blender on the pulse function. What else did Mariya want? Did the file get corrupted? Did he forget to format his citations?

**0:42 FUTABA:** ren i’m sorry

Oh, no, no gacha testing or drop rate jokes. Leave that stuff for next week.

**0:42 REN:** For what?

**0:42 FUTABA:** i hacked into the hospital database (JUST GOT CURIOUS, WON’T LEAK THE DATA OFC) and i found smth you have to know   
  
**0:43 FUTABA:** [File: cant_believe_it.pdf]

**0:43 FUTABA:** i fucked around and found out

**0:43 FUTABA:** can’t BELIEVE you were right all the time

**0:44 REN:** Right about what?

**0:44 FUTABA:** open the file

**0:44 FUTABA:** sorry for calling you a widow for a while

**0:44 FUTABA:** like, do what you want with it, this isn’t my problem anymore, but

**0:45 FUTABA:** goro akechi is alive.

**What?**

Vision hazy, hands shaking, Ren opened the attachment: a report of Goro’s health at the University of Tokyo Hospital — hospitalized since twenty days ago, with suspicion of self-inflicted or psychosomatic causes, fluctuating between delirium and stupor.

_ The guy in the news. _

Of course, someone did request for the hospital to hide his identity — the scandal would overtake the news otherwise. Besides, Goro was a minor. Less than two months to twenty, but still a minor. But with Shido in jail, who would have an interest in stopping the media circus from going after him?

Law enforcement, as Makoto had told him. Right, but which officer? Not Sae — she had asked about college and family at the party, but no mention of her going back to her old job. Also, Goro had no other friends in the force, so any effort to conceal his hospitalization was professional, not personal.

Damn, he should have insisted on texting Goro before graduating, or inviting him for the summer trip, or… Anything. Even a ‘please don’t contact me anymore’ response would have been enough.

Anything that proved Goro wasn’t his failure as a thief.

If only Ren could find a way to contact him without breaking into a hospital room, to surpass the consciousness barrier, to help a former partner in crime…

_ Partner! _ Maybe, despite his disregard for the team’s ideals and indifference to the other members, Goro counted as a Phantom Thief and had earned his Den? Could they talk in a shared dream even if his condition was more serious than deep sleep?

Joker would know for sure, but with each new assumption, Ren’s drowsiness slipped through his fingers, leaving him rolling on the bed, clutching the sheets, squeezing his eyes shut, shoving his face into the pillow, unable to rest.

Goro Akechi was alive, suffering, and he did jack shit about it for an entire year!

“Was your paper that hard?” Morgana jumped on the bed, his swinging tail spreading hair all over the mattress. “Or did your parents call you?”

“Akechi is alive, in the hospital, maybe stress or something made him sick, maybe he caused a mental shutdown on himself, maybe...” In a desperate attempt to cram all detail in short sentences, words ran into each other, their meanings lost under quick breaths and a dry mouth. “No, he doesn’t have a Shadow anymore, but what if his Personas disappeared for some reason, I have to—”

“You have to calm down! Get some water, catch your breath, then start again. Slowly.”

Rather than going downstairs, Ren gave him the phone, report still open, scrolling the screen at Morgana’s request, its white background blinding against the dim attic.

“This is awful,” Morgana said, putting a paw on Ren’s hand. “But whatever happened, it’s between him and the doctors now.”

“I should have done something before.”

“You had your own battles to fight, Ren. How could you worry about a guy who preferred to die than ask for help, when you were dealing with a shouting match every day? It’s not your fault that you didn’t know!” Two paws, and he stretched his body, rubbing his head against Ren’s forearm. “Now, try to relax. I’m here if you still want to talk, though. It’s a lot to take in.”

“Yeah... Good night.” Putting his phone on the window sill, Ren buried himself in the pillow once more, holding Morgana in a hug, kissing his furry forehead, and tucking his tiny head under his chin. “And thanks. For someone who hates being called a cat, you’re a great one.”

Perhaps it was the soft fur, perhaps the purrs, but cuddling always made the screams less piercing, the slaps less stinging. Joker pampered him at night, but Morgana had never abandoned him during the day. The calls to sleep, the remarks on his heavy eyes and trembling hands — Morgana saw him as more than a lost cause since the very beginning. A hug was the least Ren could give back.

And it never failed to help him fall asleep.

No fanciful clothing or new rooms as Ren opened his eyes, only Joker in the living room, clad in his thief garb, twirling his knife.

“I didn’t know either,” he said, resting his free hand on Ren’s shoulder. “Never got to talk to him, as much as I tried. Months, and nothing. For me, Crow was dead for good, too.”

Months? But Goro had been under care for less time, unless the report was tampered with or incomplete! Or did his version of the Trickster Game come without a chance at rehabilitation, a reward in the end? Did he earn a Palace or a Jail instead of a Den as punishment for his misdeeds? For doing what he needed to survive, did he lose his ability to dream?

Goodness, no! While he chose deception and blood, loneliness and despair withheld the means to control the searing hate inside his heart. Ah, hate, Ren’s old friend — a spark when Shido harassed that woman, a flame when his parents refused to defend him, then an inferno as Kamoshida’s depravity came to light.

If not for Ryuji, Morgana, and Ann, he, too, would have let hate burn his compassion to nothing. He, too, would have embraced the label of ‘monster’ that society was all too ready to provide.

“Does he count as a Phantom Thief?” Ren’s fists trembled, but his words out-sharpened any blade. “Where’s his Den?”

Red fingers rose to Ren’s head, combing tangled curls. “I’ve tried what you want to do. Couldn’t even get inside.”

“Doesn’t matter; show me the way.”

On the streets, headlights illuminated gloomy facades and pale snowflakes, counteracted by colorful portals. Ren couldn’t distinguish if they were pink or purple, yellow or white, so fast Joker drove. No music, no chatter, only the noise of tires on asphalt, louder and louder as the car left the mock city, racing down a sinuous road surrounded by dead trees, ending in an arched iron gate, doors broken, with no light coming from within.

“Here.” Joker parked the car, walking towards the gate. “That’s the closest I can get.”

He stretched his arm inside the arch, an invisible barrier stopping his hand from reaching deeper than the door hinges. Punches, kicks, knife slashes — all futile against the forcefield, with a faint white glow after each hit as the only proof of its existence. “See? Locked.”

Goro favored death before help. Before humility, redemption, forgiveness. But then, what about his heart-to-hearts in Leblanc, and confiding about his mother’s past in the bath house? Covert cries for help at the end of every hang out? Sure, he had an image to maintain, an ego the size of Loki’s sword, but...

“Let me try.” Ren left the car, placing a hand across the gate, and surpassed the hinges as the arch lit up in a translucent checkerboard pattern, though too weak to disintegrate his clothes.

… Ren was his weakness.

“Stop.” Joker grabbed his wrist, pulling him away from the portal. “I won’t put you in danger.”

“Of all people, you want me to stay out of trouble? You?” Brows furrowing, blood pumping, Ren stretched his free arm, plunging it inside the light. “Guess who’s the boring adult between us now! Pathetic, for the leader of the Phantom Thieves!”

The grip loosened as Joker held his visible forearm, voice lowering. “Listen: he’s already betrayed you once. Why do you think his Den opening just for you isn’t a trap?”

“He’s in a hospital bed. What the hell could he plan while unconscious and on a drip?”

“No idea. I can’t even think of a good reason.” The hold transformed into a hug from behind; the anger, into resting his forehead on Ren’s shoulder. “But please, you have nothing to prove to him! Understand that I can’t allow someone I helped heal and spread their wings, someone I love, to get hurt again because of the past! You’re loved, Ren, by many people! Don’t go after a man who scoffed at your empathy, your kindness, until the end!”

“You’ve got it wrong.” Ren let out a long breath, eyes closed, holding Joker’s arms. “It’s not about proving something to him or getting into a fight; I just want to talk to him. Know what happened. Tell him goodbye, if needed. Face my feelings head on, as you taught me. Just let me deal with this last demon from the past, and I’m free.”

_ And I’m free. _

So that was the meaning of all the luxury and hedonism, sensuality and vulnerability: to nourish his soul with the hope and strength to face his pain without living only for battle, losing out on the joys of a soft heart, of requited love. He could be a lover and a fighter, tender and fierce. He could choose both — in fact, there was no need for it to be even a choice.

“Then we must find a way to cross this gate together,” Joker said, disentangling from Ren’s chest to kiss his lips. “I won’t let you go alone; who the hell knows how it looks inside?”

A castle or a small-p palace, fitting the Prince Crow attire? No, that was artifice, not clear desire. Where would Goro want to live, anyway? What would he get if he gained control of his life? A vigilante lair?

But the disbelief in his own future, the disregard for his own wellbeing, the rejection of a sliver of peace under Maruki’s illusion... he got a dungeon. Or worse.

“Okay.” If Ren unlocked the portal, that meant a guest could follow him, as long as they crossed it together. Holding Joker’s hand, he guided it through the light — the worst that could happen was it getting stuck outside.

It crossed.

“At the first sign of danger, and I don’t care if it comes from Akechi or Crow, we run. Of course I’ll protect you, but no way I’ll get roped into a duel. Got it?”

Tightening his grip, Ren nodded, smirk growing wide, gaze shining as steel. One more adventure, and he could seize his future without looking back. A small jump, and he would break the last shackle of his childhood.

With that jump, Ren and Joker’s bodies dissolved into nothing, merging with the void.

Until the chill of wet stone awakened them.

Beneath Ren’s boots, a cracked floor; around the balustrade, a lake with overgrown red lotuses. Beyond the gazebo bridge, however, the sky had torn open, flashing with colorful artifacts, as if he was inside a corrupted game. And all the murky water failed to nourish the ground, scattered with patches of scorched grass and the hollow trunks of dead trees.

Step by step, the ruins of a once-grandiose palace rose above the horizon. Joker hastened his pace, leaping over stumps and debris, but his human limitations and the tight fit of his old, too-small Shujin pants hindered Ren’s sprint, forcing him to stop, panting for breath.

“That’s why I didn’t let you go alone.” Joker walked back, offering him a hand. “When we’re in separate bodies, you’re powerless.”

They crossed the remains of a limestone portico in no time, finding no extravagant paintings and flower arrangements, but destroyed furniture, shattered vases, fallen chandeliers. And at the frame of a collapsed door, Crow bowed to them, princely attire tattered, mask cracked.

“Fashionably late, I presume.” Standing up, he combed the bangs of his short hair. “Come; the lord of the manor is waiting. Perhaps he can  _ tolerate _ another guest.”

Inside the long corridor, nothing but rotten wood, weak lighting, and dust clouds. The former dwelling of a noble, ravaged by the revolution. Yet Crow insisted in showing propriety, bony wrists betraying his proud demeanor.

Still, this was Goro’s Den, not a Palace. Did he really want to dream about ruins and cracked ground, or was he suffering so much, he’d forgotten the meaning of hope?

“Joker, if you hadn’t summoned me, could my Den look like this?”

“It would be different for you, I guess.” Joker tapped Ren’s shoulder, eyes darting over the torn ceiling. “You would start to think the clothes are immature, the penthouse too frivolous, the scents unmanly, to the point that when you reached the Den by yourself, you would get a miserable one-room apartment and I would look like your father.”

“What a nightmare.” 

Picking up a dirty lantern, Crow guided them towards the basement, the beam of light reflecting on a trail of broken glass that led to a barred door. Outside, Black Mask guarded the entrance, bodysuit too large for his emaciated body; inside, amidst wine bottles and the spilled contents of his old attaché case, Goro cleaned a pair of wire-rimmed glasses, school uniform stained and torn.

“Don’t you feel ashamed of never working alone?” Black Mask said, blood escaping from his nose.

“No.” At the sight of a single glove, Ren emptied his blazer pocket, pulling out its matching pair — the promise! But no, he would not kick him when they were down, vow or not. To do so would offend Goro and himself. “Ake— Goro! What’s the matter, what happened?”

Glasses on face, a gulp of wine, and Goro scurried closer to the door, not bothering to stand up. “If you came here to pity me, don’t bother. I don’t know what you did after dealing with my father, but I didn’t ask you to make people treat me as a downtrodden boy in need of a guiding hand. I am a murderer, Ren, I deserve to rot in prison while laughing at that fucker’s face every day. Now, what’s your daring plan to fix this mess?”

“Nonsense; I did nothing!” Ren grabbed the bars, rust coating his fingers. “I only found you because you're in the news! They hid your identity, but still! Again, what happened, please!”

“So you admit you’re here to act on your savior complex. Go back, forget me, and have a nice dream.”

Leaning on the frame, Joker twirled a knife, pointing it at Black Mask’s broken blade. “Crow, I’m not the one with a twin alter-ego. And Goro, if you want to be alone, why did you let Ren in?”

“Enough!” Crow drew his sword, but it didn’t activate. After a coughing fit, he fell to his knees, struggling to catch his breath.

Throwing his bottle at the wall, Goro supported himself on the bars, standing up. “To tell you only once: I would have died with a smile, in jail or not. Instead, a higher-up in the police with delusions of reform made a deal to let me finish school, with the condition of joining the force immediately after graduation. Couldn’t they try to be honest and put me on hard labor? Did they think I would be thankful for becoming their guinea pig?”

“At least you can put your skills to good use, but…” His freedom was a lie — there was no pity or charity, he was being used,  _ exploited  _ under a ridiculous excuse for rehabilitation. A prisoner in all but name, and who knew his punishment if he tried to escape! “No, it’s horrible. Being trapped under the whims of tyrannical adults, like I’ve gone through. If you need any help—”

“Like you? Don’t be an idiot! What kind of delinquent could know about having their future taken hostage? I could have chosen any university course I wanted, I...” Dread filled Goro’s eyes as his hands became translucent, followed by his feet, forcing him to the floor. “Crow? Loki? Keep me here, I don’t want to go back, the media has found me, I’m ruined, keep me asleep, please!”

Mystery solved: as Joker pulled Ren away from the bars, holding him against his chest, Black Mask stepped inside the jail-cellar, mask cracking in the middle when summoning Loki. Loki was fading in and out of existence, restraining Goro while infusing him with red-black ooze, triggering body contortions and vacant eyes, mouth slurring illogical words. Delirium.

_ Psychotic breakdown. _

“Stop it!” Yet Joker’s cry and a shot at the wall didn’t interrupt the aimless cackling, the erratic shaking, the leaking saliva. Bloody coughs, golden eyes, Crow’s retching and Black Mask’s collapse caused Ren to waver between clinging to Joker’s coat and tearing Goro away from Loki’s claws, stomach churning at that chilling spectacle, flashes of his interrogation overpowering him with tremors.

_ Where is your tenacity, your intelligence? Why, Goro? Why? _

When Goro solidified, Loki returned into mask form, leaving three unconscious, wounded young men in the wake of that horror show. Where once had been pride and grace, in that moment only self-loathing and decay remained. As they stood still, Ren let go of Joker’s collar — Goro and his alter egos presented a risk to themselves alone.

The inevitable consequence of a journey of arrogance and cynicism, but it shouldn’t have ended this way. Too young, way too young, and in a foolish bid to appear in control to the very end, he denied a rival, a friend, the chance to stop his demise in a matter of days.

_ Someone please tell me that if he dies inside his Den, it’s just a nightmare and he’ll wake up! Please! _

As if a benevolent entity had heard Ren’s pleading, three pairs of crimson eyes opened, bringing with them labored breathing and slow movements. 

“Get your shit together...” Black Mask said, cradling Goro’s face. “There will be no next time...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And before people accuse me of pandering to Goroboys: I planned the "ninth room" to be like this since chapter 2. The fic premise begs the question of a Den gone bad, guys!


End file.
